In Another Life
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: Harry Pearce tells the story of love and loss and happily ever after, the story of his life with Ruth Evershed.
1. Chapter 1

**In Another Live**

Harry Pearce was tired. He was more often than not, these days. At sixty-five years old, he certainly felt his age. He hauled his tired body through the house and into his favorite armchair. He took a deep breath to prepare for what was coming, trying to organize his thoughts and figure out just where to start. Because contrary to popular belief, the beginning isn't always the best place to start. And for this story, the beginning wasn't entirely relevant. But some background was certainly necessary before he really could delve in.

Luminous blue eyes watched him with excitement, and Harry grinned upon seeing the prettiest smile he'd ever known. No use waiting any longer. Time to start.

"I've lived a whole other life that you know nothing about. And in many ways, I hope you never do. But I want you to know me and know my past, because it's made me who I am. All those mistakes I've made, it sometimes feels like guilt and regret would swallow me whole. You see, in another life, I was hard and ruthless. I was a finely tuned machine of intrigue and destruction. All for the best causes, of course, but death and pain followed everywhere I went. I shudder to think now, that I once lived contentedly in those shadows. But I am forever grateful for that other life. Because it was in living another life that I happened to meet a lovely young woman with a brilliant mind and beautiful eyes and a strength of moral character I had never known."

Harry paused, remembering back to the first time he saw her, when she hadn't really caught his attention yet, when he'd doubted her strength and ability, when he thought he understood the course his life would take from that point onward. How foolish he was.

With a fond smile, he continued, "Her name was Ruth."

* * *

 **Author's Note: This is just the very beginning! There's a whole lot to come, some of which will be canon and some of which will be my own flight of fancy diverting from things I don't want. I expect my updates will be rather sporadic for a little while, until I get a good grip on where we're going, but please stick with it and let me know what you think. I have so much I'm going to pack into this fic, and I think it will end up pretty long. Stay tuned!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Late Summer 2003_

Harry sat in the dark briefing room, pouring himself another whiskey and watching Tessa's face on a loop. He'd felt enraged, at first, upon receiving her message of betrayal. But the anger had dimmed, leaving him feeling a bit sad and empty and more than a little lost.

The door opened, distracting Harry's attention. The visitor stood there, quiet and a little awkward. "What is it, Ruth?" he asked. His new analyst—not so new anymore—had a charming but annoying habit of beating around the bush, so he had gotten better about cutting to the point with her.

"Would you...would you like a drinking partner?"

Whatever he'd expected her to say, that wasn't it. "Are you offering?"

"I just...I didn't like the idea of you drinking alone in the dark here. With...with all that's happened today."

He nodded and gestured to the chair next to his. Ruth gave a shy smile and came over to sit. He poured her a small glass of whiskey. She took a sip and made a face as the amber liquid burned her throat. Harry chuckled. "Alright, Ruth?"

"Bit more powerful than cider."

"Yes, it is," he replied with a fond smile.

Ruth regained her composure, looking away from Harry and over to Tessa's silent image on the screen. "You worked with her a long time," she stated.

"Yes. Perhaps too long. It was different before I was made Section Head."

"How so?"

"Tessa has always been brilliant and ruthless and ambitious."

"That's why you liked her," Ruth interjected knowingly.

"Indeed. But back then, we were both that way together. I like to think that authority has given me better perspective. Helped me mature. She never has. It's made her cynical and bitter."

"And that opinion was formed before, during, or after you were sleeping with her?"

Harry coughed slightly, taken aback by her bluntness. "I..."

"You had an S24 on your file for her."

"You've looked at my personnel file?"

She suppressed a smile. "Just a quick skim. When I got here. I was curious about who I was working with."

"Curiosity is probably your greatest asset, Ruth."

"And probably my greatest downfall," she replied wryly.

"Perhaps. But it makes you a brilliant analyst."

Ruth smiled in earnest and took another small sip of whiskey. She looked back at Tessa's face. It was a rather beautiful face, Ruth thought. Full of intelligence and power. Ruth had always felt very intimidated by Tessa; the woman exuded a confidence and energy that Ruth had never been able to possess. "Did you love her?" she asked.

Harry's brow furrowed. He stared at the whiskey in his glass.

"Sorry. That's too personal. Never mind," she stammered.

"No."

"No?"

"No, I didn't love her. Tessa and I shared a similar sensibility in those days, which I admired and respected. Neither of us was looking for romance. Just a physical release, a bit of carefree fun. It was easier than concocting a legend to use with a stranger in a bar. Eventually we got bored and went our separate ways. But I learned long before Tessa that good sex and mutual respect are not the same as love."

Ruth nodded, unsure how to respond. The openness Harry was displaying was unexpected and a bit unnerving. Perhaps it was the whiskey or the stress of the day. Whatever it was, Ruth knew she was getting a glimpse behind the formidable mask of Harry Pearce and seeing a bit of Harry the man.

He continued, "So no, I'm not heartbroken over Tessa in any regard. I am, however, disappointed. I did respect her, for a time. Relied on her to do the job. And she betrayed us all." Harry sighed and emptied his glass. "I've learned, over the years, Ruth, that betrayal is inevitable in most cases. And because of that, I don't often give second chances like the one I allowed Tom to give you."

She froze, her eyes wide with fear. "Tom told you?"

He chuckled humorlessly. "I was the one who told Tom. I asked him to handle you."

"Why didn't you send me back to GCHQ?" she asked in a small voice

"Because you're a brilliant analyst and we need you here. And because like Sam today, you genuinely believed you were helping. But now you know better."

"Yes, I do. I promise I do. Harry, I love this job. I love working on the Grid and being a part of your team."

"I know you do, Ruth."

"I won't let you down again," she promised.

"Yes, I know," he replied quietly.

Harry regarded the woman sitting across from him carefully. There was a quiet beauty to her, behind the bright colors and ill-fitting clothes. She was wearing red again today. Maybe someday she'd learn that spooks wear black. But at least now she wasn't wearing horrific lipstick to clash with her clothes. She actually looked rather lovely in red, something he didn't quite appreciate himself noticing.

But more intriguing about Ruth than her odd appearance was her brilliance. Her intelligence was overshadowed by enthusiasm and clumsiness, upon first glance. She was easily dismissed. Harry had certainly dismissed her as a pretty, naïve analyst, able to fill the role he needed her in. But she'd proved him wrong.

Well, not wrong, but she'd forced him to look beyond that first glance, to notice the superior capability she possessed. Thus far, there was nothing she couldn't do. Certainly things she wouldn't do, as she had an annoying habit of strong morality to her, but it was probably a reminder Harry needed. Too many officers like Tessa had crossed his path, too many people who had served to remind him of the selfish nature of humanity. Ruth was rather different in that regard. When Harry looked at her just now, he felt a strange compulsion to be a better man. Because that was what Ruth expected of him. She sat there, sipping his whiskey, asking overly personal questions, stammering whenever the conversation turned to her. Absolutely fascinating. But perhaps these thoughts were the product of the dangerous combination of distress and alcohol. Harry realized he'd had enough for tonight.

"But now it's rather late and you should be getting home. Would you like my driver to drop you off?"

Ruth blushed ever so slightly. "No, that's alright, Harry. I'll take the bus."

"The bus?" he asked with slight disdain.

She gave a small, tender smile. "Yes, Harry, the bus. It's not so bad. And this time of night, it'll be quiet and I can read my book."

They both stood up. Harry took his bottle with him back to his office. "What are you reading these days?" he asked conversationally.

"Rereading some classics at the moment. Ovid's Metamorphoses. It's a nice escape from the real world."

He nodded as they approached his office, where she would turn and collect her things from her desk. "I imagine it would be. Goodnight, Ruth."

"Goodnight, Harry."


	3. Chapter 3

_Mid-Summer 2004_

He wasn't usually so weak. Harry was made of tougher stuff than this. Watching a woman shoot herself through the mouth wasn't so appalling. But the sound of the gunshot made his injured shoulder constrict, and he'd been unable to prevent the look of pure horror etched on his face. Christ, when had he last slept? The pain was so constant now that the dull hum of it barely registered, but Harry was sure if he stopped to think about it for even a moment, he may pass out from exhaustion and pure agony.

But there was still work to be done. Reports needed to be drawn up to properly exonerate Tom. Adam needed to be debriefed, and Harry had every intention of keeping Mr. Carter on his team, no matter what Six had to say about it. Harry had things to take care of, things that shouldn't wait. Never mind his delirium, he'd push on.

Within an hour of sitting at his desk, however, Harry was starting to see the blackness creep in at the edges of his vision. Not a good sign. He had nearly nodded off more than once. His exhaustion was overtaking him. It had to be that, otherwise he would have had the resolve to be professional and resist when Ruth came into his office.

"I'm going to drive you home," she announced. "Give me your keys."

"I'm fine, Ruth," he protested weakly.

"You're not fine. You were shot two days ago, and I'm rather certain you haven't slept since you were anesthetized for surgery. You drove yourself in the day you went after Tom, and you took a cab from the hospital straight here. It's nearly one in the morning so your driver is off duty and it's rude to call him now. So give me your keys and I will drive you home."

She had it all worked out and he was in no fit condition to really protest. No one on the Grid noticed as Ruth walked out through the pods with Harry dragging himself behind her. She drove him through the nonexistent traffic back to his house. As they pulled up to his street, he realized something odd. "How do you know where I live?"

"I've been looking at your personnel file."

"You're not supposed to do that," he reminded her, realizing this was the second time he'd had to tell her.

But Ruth was undeterred. "I was just curious where you'd moved to after security made you leave the old house. This is a nice neighborhood. I've always loved Holland Park."

"It's practically Shepherd's Bush," he grumbled. There hadn't been anything available with the proper security requirements in his price range in the nicer neighborhood when he'd had to move so abruptly after the Firestorm incident.

"Well it's nice at any rate." She parked in his drive. "Come on, let's get you inside. I know you've been prescribed pain medication that I'm sure you haven't bothered to take."

"It would have made my mind go foggy."

"Oh and excruciating pain hasn't done that?" She added under her breath, "Stupid bloody man."

Harry couldn't help but smile. She was comfortable enough to scold him. This lovely woman cared about his wellbeing so much that she would call him stupid for neglecting his own care. Perhaps if he'd been slightly more coherent, he'd bristle at her seeing his weaknesses, but at the moment, it felt rather good to be cared for. Particularly by her.

He disabled the security system and she helped him take off his jacket, careful to avoid his sling. "I'll make some tea. You get comfortable and take some of those pills, eh?"

Harry did as he was told, using his free hand to unbutton his collar and dry-swallow a couple of painkillers. He slumped down on the sofa and turned on the telly.

Ruth came through with a tray a few minutes later. "Tea and toast. I didn't want to rummage through your cupboards too much."

"Oh now your concerned with my privacy?"

She blushed slightly, but didn't answer.

Harry took a sip of tea and paused. "You know how I take my tea," he realized with surprise.

"I've seen you make it before."

"And you paid attention?"

"It's my job to pick up on details," she replied. "But you know, you shouldn't take so much sugar. Can't be good for you."

"Considering I just got shot, I don't think too much sugar in my tea is really the biggest threat to my health."

Ruth merely smiled softly and told him to eat some toast. They settled into a comfortable silence, sitting side by side on the sofa, idly watching the black and white Humphrey Bogart film on the screen.

"How did you get that note to me?" Harry asked suddenly, remembering her frantically scrawled coded message in the hospital. "They obviously wouldn't let you come see me, or you would have just told me to get back to the Grid."

Ruth blushed rather prettily. "Oh. Well, I...I told the nurse that I was your mistress and pregnant with your child and could I please get a message to you. Playing the desperate forbidden lover, I suppose I won over her romantic side."

Harry stared at her and in his hazy mind, he suddenly wondered if he had slept with Ruth and somehow forgotten and how horrible it would be to not remember every inch of her. But he blinked back to reality, knowing she had made up a silly story. "That was...that was quick thinking. Well done, Ruth."

She gave an embarrassed little nod and the comfortable silence fell between them again as their attention went back to their tea and the film on the television.

Harry put his empty teacup down and let his head rest on the back of the sofa. His eyes fluttered closed, and he fell into a deep sleep. Ruth didn't quite notice until he slumped over, his ear landing on her shoulder. She was startled at first, her heart set to racing at his proximity. But she looked down at his dear face, so peaceful as he slept. His full lips were slightly parted with his soft breathing, and the ordinarily hard lines of his brow were smooth. Ruth shifted slightly to wrap her arm around him and run her fingers through the curls of his hair. He was somehow quite beautiful like this, to her mind. Quiet and gentle and soft.

Before she could think the better of it, Ruth curled herself around him and dozed off.

The sun streaming through the front window woke them both the next morning. In their slumber, they'd ended up with Harry's uninjured arm around Ruth's shoulders with her cheek nuzzled against his chest and her hand somehow resting on his slinged forearm. "Good morning, Ruth," he whispered.

She blinked her eyes open and slowly sat up. "I'm sorry, I should have insisted you go to bed. This can't have been very comfortable for you." She was frowning with concern and her voice was soft but hoarse from sleep.

"I slept just fine."

"Aren't you a bit stiff? I know I am. Gosh, I haven't fallen asleep like that in a long time."

He chose to ignore her comment about being stiff. He shifted to hide what was occurring in his trousers. "It's been an exhausting few days. I might be the injured one, but you've been working very hard nonstop through all this," he said gently.

Ruth nodded. "I've got to go home and shower and change before I go in. Are you alright on your own?"

"Yes, thank you, I'll be alright. I've had worse than this before and managed just fine."

The casual way he made that statement caused Ruth to frown with worry. This had been bad enough. She knew he'd been through worse, but knowing it from a personnel file and actually thinking about Harry so seriously hurt were different to her mind. But she nodded with resolute definitiveness. "Right. Well in that case, chin up, Harry. Time to take back the Grid and get everything back to normal."

"Quite right, Ruth. Thank you."

They both stood up, stretching their sore joints and muscles. Harry walked her to the front door, where she grabbed her purse and flashed him one final encouraging smile before walking out into the early morning sunshine to catch the Tube.


	4. Chapter 4

_Early Autumn 2004_

Harry was poring over the file he kept on Catherine very late that night. Hearing his own daughter tell Danny that her father might as well be dead was a more painful blow than he'd expected. He knew she didn't like him much, nor did she have reason to, but hearing the vitriol with which she referred to him had wounded him. Though perhaps she was right. For Harry Pearce did not have photo albums of pictures of his children. He didn't even have a box holding the mementos from their childhoods. He had a file folder where he kept the meagre few photographs and drawings and things he'd managed to save over the years. He kept the file in a locked drawer of the desk in his office. He didn't often peruse it. But now seemed an apt time to revisit the joys of his daughter and his own failings toward her.

The office door slid open slowly, causing him to look up. "Harry?" came a quiet voice.

The interruption was unwelcome, but Harry found himself smiling softly anyway. "Come in, Ruth," he beckoned. "What can I do for you?" Harry gathered the pictures of Catherine back together and closed the file, ready to turn his attention back to work.

Ruth entered the office and closed the door behind her. The blinds were already drawn, but the Grid was practically empty this time of night. "Danny told me that…that Catherine Townsend is…"

"My daughter, yes," Harry said softly.

Without invitation, Ruth sat down in the chair across from his desk, watching him with concern. "I don't want to pry, but I am here if you'd like to talk about it. Or if you need a drinking partner. After all that's happened today, I just didn't like the idea of you sitting in here alone and…and sad."

Harry was a bit taken aback. He'd had plenty of officers over the years be something like a friend to him, but the lines of professionalism were never crossed. More than anything, none of Harry's peers or superiors were the sorts of people he could trust and very few of them were people he liked, and his subordinates were all properly afraid of him. But this care and concern that Ruth showed, she wasn't afraid of him at all. That did rankle a bit; Harry knew that might cause trouble in the future. But for now, he was overwhelmed by the generous gift she was giving him, of sharing her scant free time sitting here with him offering a friendly ear. Ruth had always had the uncanny ability to know when he needed her. She was so unspeakably kind that Harry didn't feel the same need to keep his walls up with her as he did with everyone else in the world. Somehow, Harry knew she wouldn't fault him for his vulnerability, nor would she respect him any less for sharing it. And, of course, she was right—Ruth was always right—he could use a drinking partner now.

He stood up and crossed over to the cabinet where he kept the good scotch. He poured two glasses and gestured to Ruth to take a seat on the sofa. Sitting at his desk talking about his failings as a father late at night didn't seem quite right. He needed to be strong in that chair. He certainly didn't feel strong now.

"My daughter wishes I was dead," Harry said simply, taking a sip of scotch as he sat down beside Ruth.

She looked at him with those sad blue eyes of hers. Bright and all-seeing. Intelligent and understanding. "That isn't what she said, Harry," she insisted. "She couldn't even pretend you were dead. I heard the recording from Danny's wire."

"I was a terrible father, Ruth. I was never there for her. Even less for Graham. You know I wasn't even there when they were born?"

"You weren't in control of your operations back then."

"I didn't even try to be. I always focused more on the job than on my family. Jane resented me for it. Whenever I was home, she and I were always shouting at each other. Vile, awful things. She knew I was unfaithful, and she didn't even know half of it. I'm ashamed now, at how I carried on, like some James Bond pretender who never gave a thought to the wife and children he had at home. Catherine was old enough to understand all the things Jane accused me of. She never forgave me for giving up and leaving my family. And I can't blame her. She absolutely hates me, and she has every right to." Harry stared into his scotch, unable to take another drink, feeling too nauseous with the truth of himself to stomach anything.

Ruth sat beside him quietly. He could feel her eyes on him. She drank down her scotch with a grimace before she returned her attention to him. Ever so gently, she put her hand on his arm. "It's not too late, Harry. You are not the same man you were when Catherine was a child. The mere fact that you feel so awful about it all proves that."

"She deserves better than me," he replied bitterly.

"My father was a doctor. A brilliant doctor beloved by his patients. And he died when I was eleven."

Harry merely nodded, knowing these bare facts from her personnel file.

Ruth continued, "I was lucky enough to have a wonderful father who loved me and taught me about the wonderful things the world has to offer."

"And you turned out very well from it," Harry noted.

She scoffed lightly, "Hardly. You can't imagine what losing a father does to a girl. That sort of loss leaves a mark, a hole that can't ever be filled. My mother sent me away, hoping to keep me from getting lost in my grief, but it didn't work. By the time I came back, she'd remarried. David did his best as my stepfather. He and my mother weren't well-suited, but he was always very kind to me. But the point is, Harry, David wasn't my father. My dad really is dead. Catherine's dad isn't. So don't give up on her, now that you understand your mistakes. You can't change the past, but you can try harder now. Don't ever think she deserves better than you. She deserves you trying your best. That's all any daughter wants from her father. For him to love her and care for her. I know you want to protect Catherine, but don't just do it from here in the shadows. Don't let her think you've abandoned her."

Harry felt the strong desire to weep once Ruth had fallen silent. He forced down his scotch to steady his feelings, though his hand shook, giving him away. "Thank you, Ruth," he said in a slightly strangled tone.

"You're a good man, Harry Pearce, even if you weren't always. And you can be a good father, too. Don't let your past failings dictate your future actions." Ruth gave his arm a reassuring squeeze before removing her hand from him.

He could only nod in response. They sat there quietly for a little while, not moving or speaking. Eventually, Harry knew he could no longer remain in this state of emotional stasis. He stood up and offered Ruth a ride home if she needed it, but she told him she'd catch the bus and see him in the morning.

It was another few days before Harry got any good news. The idea that his tenderhearted Catherine could be the agent for the November Committee galled him, but Danny was right, she wasn't a little girl anymore. And his negative influence on her could have thrust her right into the arms of deceit and terrorism, if cloaked in a humanitarian aim. But it was Ruth who rushed into his office to give him the update.

"You never can knock, can you?"

She ignored him. "Danny just called. Catherine isn't the agent. She's not mixed up in any of this. She's probably getting herself into a bit of trouble with this documentary she's working on, but that's all."

He stood up, ready to rush to her rescue. "What sort of trouble?!"

"Harry!"

"You're right, this is very good news. Thank you, Ruth." He sat back down.

She hurried out to get back to work, leaving Harry more than a bit relieved over the whole thing. That relief, however wasn't to last. Catherine was threatened as a warning to him. And all he wanted to do was burn her attackers to the ground in retribution for even laying a finger on his girl. But he remembered Ruth's words. It wouldn't do to stay in the shadows.

Danny had arranged for him to be able to speak with Catherine. It was all such a mess. He didn't have the right words to convey all that was in his heart: regret over his mistakes, sorrow over missing out on so much of her life, fear over the danger she'd been put in because of him, and so much love for his daughter that he could barely choke out any words at all. He even began to cry, sitting there in the park with her. She was so lovely, like her mother, but fierce-hearted as he was. He couldn't be prouder of the woman she'd become.

Everything was in shambles, not just in this horrifically botched operation but with his muddled mind. All this with Catherine had made him vulnerable and unfocused. That had to be the cause of his lack of composure. During the operation, he was standing behind Ruth's chair, watching her computer screen. She had her hair up that day, and the red dress she wore was cut wide on her neckline. Her neck and most of her shoulders and the top part of her chest were on full display, and Harry was struggling not to just lean in and press his lips to her creamy, perfect skin.

But that was foolish, and he knew it. Ruth was lovely, certainly, but it was her kindness and keen skill as an analyst that he valued her for. All the rest was just a product of his distracted mind and lonely, weak heart. Yes. That was all.


	5. Chapter 5

"Harry, I think I know what part is coming up next, and I think you should just skip it."

He paused in his story and looked at Ruth curiously. "What part do you think is coming?"

Her expression darkened. "John Fortescue," she muttered.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "You're right, that is coming next. But I shan't skip it."

"Oh why not?"she whined. "It isn't about the two of us, it's just about me being horribly and embarrassingly pathetic. And the fact that you know about it enough to include it in the story of our relationship is actually rather mortifying," she countered.

He gave a wry smirk. "I know significantly more about it than you think, and there is quite a bit from my perspective that I dare say you know nothing about. And therefore it is an important part of the story, and because this is my story, I'll tell it as I please. Alright?"

Feeling sufficiently scolded, Ruth shrunk back on the sofa. Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment, and Harry could bet she was about to bury her face in her hands.

"Ruth, I think you'll like the story much better when you hear me tell it. Please just trust me."

Her expression relaxed at his words. She gazed at him with those blue eyes he loved so well, so full of love and understanding. "I trust you, Harry," she replied softly.

"Good. Now then, part of an analyst's job is to collect information on various individuals under secret surveillance due to their connection with organizations or people that the Service might have interest in, in case those individuals could be used as assets. A man named John Fortescue was under such secret surveillance."

* * *

 **A/N: This chapter, like the very first one, are set sometime in 'modern day', and there will be a few interludes like this throughout the story. So whenever there isn't an italicized date at the top of the chapter, you'll know it's one of these.**


	6. Chapter 6

_Late Autumn 2004_

Malcolm came into Harry's office with a tentative knock and a concerned expression. "I've just been to Ruth's house," he started.

Harry looked up, intrigued and slightly worried. "Oh? She's rostered off today."

He nodded. "She asked me to bring her a file. And you know, she didn't even answer the door? Just called me inside. She had a cat in her lap, and she was watching The Red Shoes. You remember that film?"

"Malcolm…"

"Right, well, anyway, I just thought you should know that she's requested a file off the Grid."

"What file was it?" Harry asked with a furrowed brow. What the hell was Ruth up to?

"Chap named John Fortescue. Potential future asset. Routine surveillance."

Harry frowned. "Why did she want it?"

"I'm not quite sure. But…"

"But what?"

Malcolm sighed heavily. "I think she's a bit sad."

Harry immediately felt wildly uncomfortable for a whole host of reasons he had no desire to examine. "Thank you, Malcolm," he said, dismissing his technical officer.

Once Malcolm had gone, Harry sat back in his chair, thinking. Ruth had been a bit sad, he realized. He'd noticed it when they were in a briefing the day before. The way she'd seemed a bit smaller than usual. The way she'd gazed at Zoe as everyone gushed about her engagement to Will, the way she'd watched Danny so carefully in his distress over the situation.

Before he could think the better of it, he picked up his phone and called Sam. "Meet me on the roof in ten minutes. I've got a task for you."

And so it began, Harry's illicit mission, running Sam to investigate Ruth. He professed to the young Scotswoman that he was unsure about Ruth's motives, unsure if she'd compromised security with whatever she was doing looking into this John Fortescue. His private concerns about Ruth's wellbeing were of secondary importance, at least outwardly. The notion that Malcolm had thought enough of Ruth's actions to warrant telling Harry, to actually bring up that she seemed sad…his team certainly cared for each other, but this anxiety felt somewhat dire to Harry's mind.

As it turned out, Ruth's intentions were as far from nefarious as possible. Sam's reports to him were full of, for lack of a better term, pity. "I think she just fancies him, actually. It's really sort of sweet. She likes that he sings," Sam had told him.

Harry nearly blurted out that he himself could sing, but luckily he'd spared himself that embarrassing revelation. This was not about Harry's own virtues, nor was it about his personal feelings where Ruth might be concerned. "I want you to help her, Sam. Help her see this through, wherever it will lead. Bring Malcolm in as well, if you need him," Harry told her.

Sam regarded him curiously. "How come?"

He bristled slightly at being questioned, but this was not a proper operational issue, so Sam had every right to wonder what the hell he was playing at. But Harry answered her honestly. "If you haven't already figured it out, Sam, this job can be ruthless. Not just in what we do, but in what parts of humanity we are exposed to. Ruth still possesses a beautiful sense of romantic optimism. She's our friend, and we should help her be happy if we can. So long as it doesn't compromise security, which this certainly doesn't. Ruth deserves the opportunity to be brave, even if she might need a small push from a certain well-meaning blonde."

The next time Harry heard about John Fortescue, it was from Malcolm again. "It's over," he announced, coming into Harry's office late in the evening.

"What is?"

"Ruth sang the Requiem and she chatted with John Fortescue and everything seemed to be going smashingly," Malcolm said with a proud smile.

Harry's heart plummeted to his stomach. "And?"

"And as they walked together by the fountain, they stared at each other and wished each other goodnight, and he walked away. I think he was just as scared as she was. Pity, really. She did look very pretty."

Privately, Harry wished he could see what she'd worn, if it was something brightly colored or ill-fitting, or if perhaps she had a slightly better dress sense when she had romantic intentions.

Malcolm continued, "But the file is back where it belongs, and I don't think Ruth will be trying anything like this ever again."

Harry heard the sadness and disappointment in Malcolm's last words. Harry merely nodded and dismissed Malcolm. They wouldn't speak of this again.

In spite of himself, Harry smiled. Yes, he'd wanted Ruth to have that opportunity to be happy. She'd done so much for him, bolstering and supporting him through his personal vulnerabilities over the last year or so, that he'd just wanted to return the favor. She deserved it. She deserved everything good in the world. But the dark, selfish part of him was glad it hadn't worked out with this John Fortescue. Whoever he was, he was certainly not good enough for Ruth. Then again, no man probably was. If Ruth had found love, like Zoe had, things would change. She'd have something outside of the Grid, a reason to leave in the evenings instead of joining him for a drink in his office. Harry had to admit that he needed her, both as an analyst and as a friend, and he wasn't quite ready to share her with anyone else.

The next morning, he'd gone to speak with Ruth, knowing that as Section Head, he couldn't let his staff just take files home at their pleasure. He'd need to acknowledge this situation at least to that extent. "Ruth, what you do on your personal time is your own business, but you cannot allow such things to cross over into our work here," he'd reminded gently.

The exact words of her response were lost to him, for all he could hear was the tone of her answer. So cold. So sad. Harry felt guilty for the hand he'd had in cracking the shiny shell of her innocence and naïveté. But of course such traits could not survive here on the Grid. Ruth had to learn that for herself, and as her boss, he was glad she was starting to understand. Still, he possessed an infuriating desire to protect her, and he had failed. He wanted better for her. Truly, he did.

Harry walked away with an exasperated sigh. Harry Pearce felt more of an old man and a bastard than he had in quite some time. Despite what may have been masked as honorable and friendly intentions, he knew now that he was absolutely no good for her.


	7. Chapter 7

_Early Winter 2004_

Harry could have kicked himself. How the hell had he been so oblivious that he'd assumed that Ruth texting Sam that she was home sick was at all acceptable? Ruth never took a sick day. Danny was completely right. But Harry had been so focused on the hacker and getting Adam up on the roof with the poisoned diamonds that he hadn't even given poor Ruth a second thought.

And now he was gripped with panic, waiting for Adam and Danny and their team to rescue her from Andrew Forrestal. He paced back and forth in his office, waiting for some news. He'd had to close the blinds, lest the others of his team figure out that his level of concern was unreasonable under the circumstances. And it was. He knew it was.

Harry took off his jacket and tossed it on a nearby chair. His shoulder was bothering him a bit; he knew at his age that he'd never fully heal from where Tom shot him. He sighed, rubbing the sore muscle beneath his braces.

Ruth was in danger and he hadn't realized it. Ruth was in danger and he might be too late. Ruth was in danger and he'd never… That sentence was too much for him to even think about right now.

The phone rang, mercifully interrupting his thoughts. "Yes?" he answered curtly after the first ring.

"Harry, it's Adam. Forrestal is dead. We're collecting the diamonds and the laptop now."

"And Ruth?"

"She's fine. A bit shaken. She's been tied with her arms above her head on the bannister of the stairs all night," Adam said. "Medics are checking her over now, but no lasting damage."

Harry had to keep himself from choking out a sob of relief. "When she's cleared, bring her back to the Grid. I need to speak with her."

"Sure," Adam replied.

After hanging up the phone, Harry practically collapsed onto the sofa in his office. He scrubbed his face with his hands. She was alright. Ruth was alright. At this moment, that was all that mattered.

About a half hour later, the door to his office opened tentatively. "Harry? Adam said you wanted to talk to me."

He smiled at her. "Yes, come in, Ruth. Close the door behind you," he requested. "Would you like a drink?"

Ruth closed the door and shook her head. "Not just now, thanks. Maybe later."

Harry nodded. "Later, then." He hadn't bothered to stand up from the sofa. He reached an arm out toward her. "Sit with me?"

A small smile crossed her face. She made her way toward him, and he watched her carefully. She was a bit pale. Looked tired and drawn. But just as Adam had reported, she was unharmed, thank god.

Ruth sat down beside Harry, and he immediately folded her in his arms. She held him tight, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a shaky exhale. After a moment, he loosened his hold on her. "Ruth, are you alright?"

"Yes, the medics let me go. I'm fine."

"Not just physically, I mean...Did he...do anything?"

He could feel her tense up in his embrace. "I realized it was him. The hacker. And I tried to run. Oh, I was so stupid, I should have figured it out sooner!"

"You, Ruth, are the furthest thing from stupid I've ever known," Harry assured her.

"I let him distract me, just because..." She sighed, burying her face against his chest. "I hate how he made me feel," Ruth admitted, her voice muffled against his shirt.

"And how was that?" he pressed.

Ruth pulled away and searched his face for a moment before averting her eyes to stare down at her hands in her lap. "He made me feel like he understood me. Like he was like me. Like we were the same."

Harry tried to find something else to say that wasn't some pointless cliche.

But Ruth continued before he could say any thing. "I'm alright, Harry. I don't want to talk about it." She rested her head on his shoulder with one hand on his chest.

Harry was still a bit worried about her, but having her here, nuzzled on the sofa with him, everything in the world felt light and warm for these few precious moments.

Despite telling him she didn't want to talk about it, Ruth began to speak more about Andrew Forrestal anyway. "He was so unhappy. He told me about it, how he knew he was talented and smart, but he wasn't ever ambitious, and he'd become lonely and bitter. He was so broken, Harry. And all of that from being alone and shunted to the side by everyone he'd trusted and cared for. I just…I can't help but be afraid that I'll end up like that, too."

Harry's hand squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "You will never end up like that, Ruth. You're far too good and kindhearted to break like he did. And you know, this might just be a job, but we are something of a family here on the Grid. Danny and Sam and Adam were terrified of what had happened to you when you didn't come in today. They would go to the ends of the earth to save you." He began gently rubbing her arm. "You're very loved, Ruth."

She shifted in his embrace to look up at him. "And what about you, Harry?" she asked quietly. "Were you worried about me?"

He sighed, "It took me far too long to realize something wasn't right. Sam got that text Andrew sent from your phone, but she and Danny both knew something was wrong and I didn't."

Ruth chuckled lightly, "I don't think I know how to text."

"Precisely. And when Danny reminded me of that fact, I knew they were right. Something was wrong. And I was a bit apoplectic, actually. I hid myself in here while I waited for Adam and Danny to find you."

"You hid?"

"I'll admit I rather wanted to break down and weep at the idea you were in harm's way," he confessed.

She smiled up at him. "When I found out you got shot, I did break down and weep."

Harry matched her expression. "You're not alone, Ruth. It'll be alright."

She didn't answer him, just rested her head back on his shoulder. Her fingers traced the lines of his braces. Harry pressed a light kiss to her hair and relaxed in the knowledge that she was safe and yes, they'd be alright.


	8. Chapter 8

_Early Winter 2004_

Danny was gone. Harry knew it before anything was confirmed. After so long in this position, he had a sixth sense about death. Ruth had tried to remain optimistic, insist that perhaps he hadn't actually been shot, that they were lying, that they hadn't killed him. But Harry knew. And he knew that the hope Ruth clung to would only make reality hurt that much more.

When all was said and done, the house was secured and Fiona was rescued and the team arrived for the cleanup. Zaf took a pool car with Ruth. Harry took his own car, knowing he'd likely need to head to Whitehall or wherever else before he could return to the Grid or home.

He rushed to the action to see Ruth standing in her pale coat, tendrils of her hair whipping in the wind. She saw the body bag and opened it as Harry approached, looking to him for subtle approval, which he gave.

"Oh no," she lamented, her voice cracking as she began to cry.

Zaf was standing a ways back, giving them a bit of space. Harry was about to reach out to Ruth and hold her hand, keep it from touching Danny's dead body, hoping to protect her from the very worst, but he was prevented from doing so by someone calling out his name. "I have to leave you for a moment, Ruth."

She looked up and nodded slightly, tears falling from her exhausted, grief-filled eyes. "I'm staying here with Danny."

He stared at her just a moment too long, just a moment too long for propriety, a moment too long to protect himself. He walked away quickly before he couldn't. There was a job to be done.

But Ruth was standing there, stroking Danny's face, murmuring, "Harry's had to leave us for a moment. I'm still here with you, Danny. I'll stay right here with you."

Harry looked over at her, her poor lovely face contorted by the most visceral pain. This was the first of her friends that she'd lost. Tom had broken and left. Zoe had been spirited away. No one had died while Ruth was on the team. Harry knew it was only a matter time, as always. But Danny, so young and full of promise, working so hard to be better and to do good. He had been a good friend to Ruth from the beginning, being of similar age and experience level. It pained Harry to lose any member of his team, but he'd grown calluses on his heart. What ripped them open was moments like this, seeing the fresh trauma in the others.

By the time Harry was able to cede control of the scene and return to Ruth's side, he found Zaf trying to pull her away from Danny so the coroner could remove the body. Ruth wouldn't have any of it. Harry put a gentle hand on her shoulder, waving Zaf away. He could take it from here. "Ruth, I'm going to take you home now," Harry told her gently.

Ruth was sobbing properly now. She may have been trying to say something, but it was unintelligible to Harry's ears. He led her to his car, holding her arm to keep her moving and helped her get into the passenger seat of his Range Rover.

On the drive to her house, Ruth was able to quiet down. She was wringing her hands and her lip quivered, indicating that she was about to burst into tears again at any second. Harry kept an eye on her as best he could.

He parked the car and helped her inside. She was like a ragdoll, allowing him to move her in any direction without question. It was very unlike Ruth, and Harry didn't like it one bit. It worried him. He helped her off with her coat before settling her down on the sofa. "Sit here for a while, Ruth. I'll fix us some tea."

It took a bit of doing to find all the fixings for tea in her cupboards, particularly because Ruth seemed to have very little sense of organization in her kitchen, but he managed just fine. He brought two steaming mugs into the living room. She took hers with a small nod. Harry sat beside her, and they drank their tea without touching and without speaking.

Ruth put her empty cup down and stared off into space. "I can't believe he's gone." Her voice was hoarse from emotion. She cleared her throat slightly and continued, "I can't believe I won't see him laughing about something silly or scowling about something petty when I go in tomorrow."

"I'm so sorry, Ruth," he replied.

She turned her head to look at him, a slightly curious expression on her face. "It isn't your fault, Harry, but thank you."

"It is my fault. Danny is a member of my team. You all are. I am responsible for all your lives. And though Danny died a hero and saved Fiona's life and it was his choice to devote his life to the Service, no loss is easy to bear." Harry shifted on the sofa, realizing he was going down an unwise path. "But I won't saddle you with my regrets. I'll leave you to your grief, Ruth." It was time to go, time to escape this precarious situation before he allowed anything more to happen when they were both weak and vulnerable with sadness.

"No, please don't go. Please don't leave me alone, Harry," she begged, grabbing his arm to prevent him from standing up.

All Harry's defenses were shattered. He could refuse her nothing when she asked, when she begged. How could he? Harry settled back down. "Alright, I'll stay as long as you need me." That wasn't quite something that he could reasonably promise her, but the words escaped his lips nonetheless.

Ruth opened her mouth to say something but stopped herself.

"Yes, Ruth?" he prompted.

"Well, I feel a bit silly asking, but…"

"Don't feel silly," he insisted. "What do you need from me?"

She frowned, wringing her hands in that sad, nervous manner again. "Will you…will you just hold me?"

"Of course I will." Harry adjusted himself better on the sofa and opened his arms to her. She snuggled firmly into his embrace with her cheek against his chest.

"Promise me you'll never let me go," she murmured, her voice muffled against his shirt.

Harry kissed her forehead and whispered, "I promise you, Ruth, I will never, ever let you go."

That was another promise he had no business making. But Harry felt this one in his heart. More than any promise he had ever made to any women in all his life, Harry desperately wanted to keep this promise to Ruth. Sitting here, cuddled together on her sofa in their grief, Harry felt the jarring realization that he'd somehow fallen in love with this woman, and he never wanted to let her go.


	9. Chapter 9

"Harry, you got that part wrong!" Ruth interrupted.

"Have I?" he challenged.

His audience looked from him to Ruth and back, blue eyes full of questions.

Ruth sighed, "Yes, I remember exactly what happened that night. It was a rather important night for me. For us. I was a complete mess, and I wouldn't let you leave."

"Yes, I said that," he reminded her.

"But you made it seem like we just cuddled on the sofa."

"Didn't we?"

She frowned. "You know we didn't. I asked you not to leave, and you insisted we eat something and I relax, so I went up and took a bath, and you called for some Chinese to be delivered. And when I came back downstairs, you were arguing with Fidget."

"Fidget?"

Ruth smiled. "My cat at the time. His name was Fidget. And I walked in on you, Harry, telling him that the chicken fried rice wasn't for him but he was welcome to a bit of shrimp wonton."

Harry chuckled slightly. "So I did," he agreed, remembering that strange night. "And you came into the kitchen smiling for the first time all day, so I felt like I did a rather good job."

"You did," she replied with an affirmative nod. "And then it was getting late and we needed rest, and that was when I begged for you to hold me and never let me go. We were curled up in my bed together when that happened."

Even though he hadn't put that part in his story, Harry remembered it all perfectly. It was the second time they'd fallen asleep together and the second time he'd woken up with her in his arms. But this time, he wasn't delirious from being shot, and they'd actually had a restful night in a comfortable bed. "I couldn't refuse you. Perhaps I should have," he mused softly.

"I'm glad you didn't. That was the first proper night we spent together, and I think that was the moment our relationship starting to shift from just good friends to…"

"To more, yes," he confirmed. Harry smiled serenely. "Yes."


	10. Chapter 10

_Early Winter 2004_

Ruth hadn't taken any time off to deal with Danny's death, despite Harry's sincere offer.

"No, thank you, but there's work to be done. I won't leave you an analyst down along with Danny gone and Fiona taking leave. I'll be alright," she insisted. "Except…"

"What is it, Ruth?"

"Could I have the day off for his funeral? I'd…I'd like to have that time to grieve."

Her voice was so small and nervous, it nearly broke his heart. "We'll all be going to the funeral. There will be time to grieve," he assured her.

She nodded in thanks.

"Would you like me to give you a ride on the day?"

"That would be very kind, thank you," she agreed.

And so that was how Harry had arrived at the church with Ruth beside him. His driver dropped them off, and Harry opened the door for her. They walked in together and sat side by side in the pew.

She was so withdrawn, so quiet and sad. It was a strange sight to see. Like the veneer of cheerfulness brought on by her enthusiasm had stripped her bare. Harry thought he was privileged to know her better than most on their team, with the quiet moments they'd spent together. That night he'd spent in her bed, that moment he'd realized he was quite possibly in love with her, Harry felt his entire world shift beneath his feet. He needed Ruth. That was clear to him now. He needed her in every conceivable way. And anything she needed from him in return, he wanted to provide.

A distant explosion caught Harry's attention, bringing him out of his thoughts of Ruth and mourning for Danny. His mobile began to rang, as did Adam's. Harry hurried out of the church with the rest of the team on his heels. It only took him about twenty seconds to realize that Ruth didn't follow.

He returned to her side as quietly as possible. "We have to go, Ruth," he told her softly.

"I want to say goodbye properly," she begged.

If they weren't in a church with dozens of people and a national terrorist attack emergency right outside, he would have said to hell with it all and held her in his arms until she was ready to go. But they did not have the luxury of that choice at the moment. "I need you," was all Harry could say.

Ruth took a moment before nodding and going with him. He offered his hand, which she took. He gave hers a comforting squeeze as they hurried to the car. Harry spent the whole ride on the phone with Ruth listening in. They kept hold of each other's hand the whole way.

The comfort they took together was quickly dashed upon arriving on the Grid. The Americans had swarmed, distracting Harry to annoyance. The crowds of people getting into Ruth's things left her similarly bothered. She was almost glad when Adam sent her out to go see Professor Stephen Curtis; she was petrified to go out into the field, but at least she could escape the chaos of the Grid.

If Harry had any inkling of calm from spending his morning with Ruth, it was dashed by the extremely unwelcome arrival of the very last person he ever wanted to see. Juliet bloody Shaw. It killed him that she looked so good. Damn good. She was always an extremely alluring woman, and time hadn't ravaged her like it had him. But Harry had used his political capital—however much of it he could claim to possess—to foist her off to America when he became Section Head. Having her all the way across the pond allowed her to do what she did best, which was to charm and terrify weak men into following her orders, and allowed Harry to do his job without the disastrous former affair hanging over his head.

And now she was back. On the Grid. Blackmailing him about over Omega. She was good. But Harry had no intention of being her puppet. Not anymore. Never again would Juliet bloody Shaw ensnare him to do her bidding when he was filled with lust for her elegant figure and vivacious nature. Such things held no sway over him now.

As he waited in the Home Secretary's office to explain Omega and Juliet and offer his resignation, Harry realized that he was once again on the precipice of being thoroughly distracted by a beautiful brunette he worked with. The circumstances were different—Harry wasn't married and neither was Ruth, and they weren't in the middle of an undercover operation—and the two women were entirely different as well—Juliet was ambitious and dangerous and demanding while Ruth was brilliant and warm and unassuming. But there were enough similarities to give Harry pause. The horror wrought from shagging a woman he was working with never failed to wheedle its way back into his life. And obviously things with Ruth hadn't progressed anywhere close to that yet, but Harry knew he needed to be careful.

In the end, the HS delayed the conversation about the deaths Harry had covered up in West Germany and adamantly refused his resignation. Harry gave his official support for Juliet as NSC Coordinator and went right back to work on these bombings, which seemed to please the powers that be.

Meanwhile, poor Ruth was having a devil of a time with Professor Curtis. She played dumb and made friends with his cat and did her best to get some information out of the man, as much as it disgusted her to allow his arrogant misogyny to be used to her advantage. But when she saw a man with a gun in the garden and her driver had a bullet in his head, it was time to cut the act. Ruth was a desk spook no longer, traipsing through the hills and protecting this civilian's life until they could get to a safe house and then back to the Grid.

She understood the excitement the field agents lived for, the adrenaline of the action. But Ruth could not wait to return to her desk and her computer and her translations and her hacking and her puzzles, thank you very much. More than anything, she wanted to get back to Harry. Have him tell her what to do and take control of the situation so she could feel safe. Harry would know what to do. Harry always knew what to do. But until she could get back to him, she would need to be in charge. Never mind the anxiety nestled in her stomach. Professor Curtis was her responsibility and she wouldn't let him be harmed.

Harry and Juliet interrogated Foster together when the bombmaker was brought in. In a lot of ways, it was like old times. It felt good, having someone skilled by his side, someone he knew almost as well as he knew himself. They fell right back in step, using every tool in their collective arsenal. But this wasn't Harry's place anymore. He was needed elsewhere. Things were going on that he needed to be made aware of. Let Adam or Zaf do the legwork that set Harry's teeth on edge. Let the younger men and women on his team supply him with the intelligence he needed to make the hard decisions. For the love of god, let him go back into his office and discuss it with Ruth so she could ferret out the truth amidst the tangled web of lies and direct his moral compass to the true north only she seemed to provide nowadays.

When Ruth walked in with Professor Curtis in tow, Harry felt life breathed back into him. They could solve this now. With the professor, they could figure this out. Ruth took her place by Harry's side as they discussed their next step, her handling the professor and looking to Harry for direction. For one horrible moment, he looked at her and suddenly noticed the lovely fullness of her lips and the lines around her mouth that he wanted to trace and kiss at the first opportunity. But Juliet's voice completely destroyed that thought and brought his focus back to the task at hand.

It was a bit odd, sitting in his office while Juliet and Ruth and Professor Curtis were in the other room. Ruth could be trusted to do the job, of course, as could Juliet. But the whirl of confusion Harry's personal feelings had created left him rather uncomfortable about it.

And in the end, the professor gave them the correct password, Adam stopped the countdown for the bomb, and Section D foiled the terrorist plot as they were commissioned to do. Harry sent his whole team home, and he hurried off to Whitehall to speak with the Home Secretary and Prime Minister. By the time he was finished, Harry was rather certain he hadn't properly eaten or slept in about thirty-six hours. But he couldn't go home yet. There was one last important thing to do.

With sweating palms, he rang the bell at Ruth's house. Only about a week earlier, he'd spent the night in that house with her. It seemed like so long ago. So much had happened since then.

Ruth opened the door wearing her bathrobe. She didn't have a stitch of makeup and her hair was still wet from the shower she'd probably taken as soon as she'd gotten home. When she opened her mouth to presumably ask him what the hell he was doing there, she yawned.

"You were sleeping, I'm so sorry to wake you," he apologized sincerely.

"No, I don't mind," she insisted with a small smile. "Here, come on in, Harry. I can make us some tea."

"Actually, I wanted to show you something. I probably should have called first."

"If you want to give me about ten minutes, I'll put some clothes on. You're welcome to wait inside."

Harry followed her in and sat on her sofa while she hurried upstairs to change. One of her cats came wandering over to nuzzle Harry's arm. He gave the little tortoiseshell feline a scratch behind the ears and took a look at the collar. Mopsy. Harry chuckled to himself. What a stupid name. Leave it to Ruth, bless her.

She stumbled a bit down the stairs. "All dressed," she announced, somewhat breathless.

He wanted to say that she looked lovely, but now wasn't the time for such things. He'd made a promise and he intended to keep it. Harry just nodded and helped her put on her coat and took her out to his car.

They drove without speaking. After the chaos of this operation, between the Americans and Juliet and everything else, sitting in the quiet was rather nice. Neither Harry nor Ruth was the sort of person to feel the need to fill silence. They both seemed to understand that about the other.

When they entered the churchyard, Harry looked over at Ruth to see her reaction, to see if she'd understand where he was taking her. She lifted a shaky hand to her lips and tears filled her eyes. He focused on driving to the correct road and eventually parked. "Ruth, Danny's grave is the third from the left, two rows ahead. I know I said there would be time to grieve, and since we never really know when the next disaster will strike, now might be the only time," he told her gently.

Ruth just nodded. They both got out of the car. Harry waited beside his Range Rover while Ruth made her way to where Danny was laid to rest. He could hear her speaking softly but didn't try to make out what she was saying. Her body began to shake with silent sobs, and as much as he longed to pull her into his arms as he had the day Danny died, Harry stayed where he was. It was an invasion of her privacy as it was that he was standing there watching. He'd leave her alone.

Eventually, she turned and walked back toward him. She wiped her eyes and tried to calm her hitching breaths. "Thank you, Harry," she said.

"Of course," he replied simply.

They both stood there for a moment, looking at each other. Ruth stood up on her tiptoes and gently brushed her lips on his. She pulled back, eyes filled with apprehension, unsure if the line she crossed was unwelcome.

Harry didn't hesitate for an instant, tangling his fingers in her still-damp hair and pulling her back into a deep, sensual kiss. She melted against him, her mouth moving against his, tracing his lips with her tongue, opening her mouth to him. Everything about her was exquisite and Harry didn't let her go until he couldn't breathe anymore.

Ruth kept her hands where they were, holding his cheeks close to her. "Wow," she whispered.

Harry smiled and gave her one last soft kiss before stepping away. "I'll take you back home now. I've got to get back to the Grid, so I'll just drop you off, if that's alright.

She nodded. They both got back in the car, once again not speaking. This time, however, a soft comfort settled between them. Harry felt filled with joy, now having known the glory of her kiss. And as much as he might have wanted to invite himself into her house and tumble into her bed, and as much as he might have done exactly that as a younger man, he knew better now. If nothing else, he had Juliet bloody Shaw to contend with once again, and that reminder was a powerful one.

No, Harry would not rush things with Ruth. He would not trust his own longing for her. He would keep his distance. If he could manage it.


	11. Chapter 11

_Spring 2005_

The look of devastation on Ruth's face when he told her he was sending her back to GCHQ was one of the most endearing things Harry Pearce had ever seen. The devotion she had to Section D and to the team—perhaps hopefully to Harry himself—was actually rather heart-warming. But he needed to send her back, needed to have her pose as a government intelligence officer passing information to Moran and the British Way. And when Harry explained that he needed someone he could really trust to do this, her expression brightened. Perhaps that was a bit too effusive for him, but seeing her reaction made it more than worth it.

Everything about this operation was frustrating from the start. Seeing that sort of xenophobic, racist rubbish seep into what should have been respectable politics absolutely galled Harry to his core. He should have kept his mouth shut but simply couldn't bear to let such horrific things pass by. The fact that he could see Ruth watching him with affectionate approval whenever he did so was in no way a deterrent for his righteous ranting.

But Ruth did absolutely brilliantly. Harry was starting to believe there was nothing she couldn't do. She passed the information to Moran, more than holding her own and looking disarmingly lovely in her pale pink jumper as she did it. She had returned straight to the Grid after leaving the restaurant.

"Harry, I know why you made me do that, but Jesus, that was awful," she lamented, barging into his office with a cup of tea in her hand.

He couldn't help but give her a small smile. "You did wonderfully, Ruth. Thank you."

She shrugged off the praise. "It's the job."

"It is. But you're very good at it."

Ruth ducked her head nervously at his soft tone, taking a sip of her tea. "Right. Well, I suppose I've got a lot to be getting on with, now that I've been liberated from GCHQ again."

"Good to have you back," he replied.

She nodded as she left his office. "Good to be back, Harry."

And then, of course, to ruin that nice moment, the phone rang, and Harry was summoned by Juliet bloody Shaw. Again.

He put his face in his hands, internally whining about his own fate once more, indulging in self-pity for a moment before he headed over to Whitehall. What had become of Juliet was nothing short of tragic. She was a brilliant field agent, once. Incredible instincts. That was one of the reasons Harry had fallen into bed with her. Few things were more attractive to him in that time of his life than supreme competence. They got on so well, working together and sleeping together. Christ, he was rather certain he'd loved her once.

But now, oh now she was far too deeply embedded in the political caste. She thought like a politician. Not like an agent. She didn't respect Harry's opinion on matters, that much was clear. She didn't take his officers' expertise and field knowledge into enough account. It would prove fatal, Harry knew.

And then at last, the British Way collapsed in on itself, just as Harry had anticipated. It felt rather good to be proved right, particularly right under Juliet's nose. And when he instructed Ruth to go get the message to Adam, her smile may have just been the very best part.

But she was gone too long. No call in from her or from Adam. It wasn't until Adam did eventually call in that Harry learned that Moran's people had caught on to them and tried to dispense with both Adam and Ruth, but Adam had prevailed, bringing Moran in for questioning.

"Adam. You got Moran?" Harry asked, catching his Section Head in the hall.

He grinned. "Yeah, about to interview him now. He nearly got me with his crossbow. If it weren't for Ruth..."

Harry's eyes narrowed sharply. "What did Ruth do?"

"She was held at knifepoint when I found her. They tied us up and threw us in the woods for Moran to hunt us with that bloody crossbow. I made her run."

Harry felt ice grip his heart at the image of Ruth with a knife at her neck, tied up and thrown onto the cold February ground, running through the woods for her life. But he just nodded, pleased Adam had insisted getting her to safety. She wasn't field trained like he was.

Adam continued, "But Moran nearly had me. And she hit him with a tree branch." He laughed. "And when I had him covered, you know what she said?"

"Hmm?"

"'Shall I hit him again?'"

Harry smiled slightly. Good for her. He allowed Adam to get along with his interrogation. Harry went to find Ruth.

She was sitting at her desk, focused intently on her computer screen, as always. He leaned against the desk and asked in a low tone, "Are you alright? Adam told me what happened."

"I'm fine," she assured him quietly, her eyes never leaving the screen. Harry knew that trick of hers, avoiding eye contact as a means of avoiding her own vulnerability.

"I'd like to see you in my office," he insisted, walking away.

Ruth followed, knowing better than to defy a direct order.

But as soon as he closed the door behind her, he turned and opened his arms. She nearly collapsed into them. Her body was trembling, but she wasn't crying. "I was so scared, Harry," she whispered.

"You did brilliantly, Ruth. And you're safe now. Everything is alright," he soothed, rubbing small circles over her back as he held her close. "Everything is alright."

She pulled back ever so slightly to look up at him. "It's the job," she said knowingly.

Harry lightly kissed her lips. He kissed her because they were alone in his office where no one could see. He kissed her because her life had been in danger. He kissed her because it was the job, and he so desperately wished he could vow to keep her safe. But Harry couldn't bear to lie to her in that moment. And so instead he kissed her.


	12. Chapter 12

_Early Autumn 2005_

Ruth scrunched up her face in a rather disapproving manner. "Couldn't we say clique or circle? Something more inclusive?"

"No, I like brotherhood."

Harry had dismissed her scolding and moved on, but inside, he was rather chuffed she'd done it. That she felt comfortable enough with him to question his somewhat misogynistic terminology even in front of Adam and Fiona and Zaf. Six months ago, she wouldn't have dared. But she knew him better now, knew he had his foolish proclivities but meant nothing of it.

All good feeling was ruined when news of Clive McTaggart's death reached them. He immediately went to sulk in his office, leaving the rest to sort out the rest.

Ruth came to him, finding him in the dark there. "If you feel like you want to talk to someone…I don't have any plans later," she offered.

Oh how he wished he could accept, how he wished he could tell her that she did indeed have plans later, plans to go out to dinner with him, to let him kiss her till they couldn't breathe. He wanted nothing more than to bury his sorrow in her glory. But he couldn't. She'd picked up the shambles of his life too many times already. He had promised himself to keep his distance, to take whatever was building between them slowly. Already he'd stepped back from her when he felt he could. He hadn't kissed her at all since that day she'd been attacked by Moran in the woods, despite the distinct siren call of her touch. He couldn't rush headlong into this like so many mistakes he'd made in the past. He knew better now. And more than anything, Ruth deserved better.

And so he politely refused her. He went to speak with Roy and Juliet, reminisced about Clive, and went home to mourn in solitude for his dear departed friend.

It was very late when the phone rang, though not so late that he'd been in bed. He hadn't even taken off his tie yet. But when Ruth asked him to come to her house, he was glad he was sitting down. Had his attempt to back off prompted her to become more forward? Was it really possible that Ruth could want him? Her kisses in the past seemed to indicate she might, but could she ever really be brave to admit it to herself, let alone to him?

But of course, it was nothing like that at all. Gary Hicks, well-known tabloid rubbish he was, had gotten himself into trouble, witnessing Clive's murder. Of course Ruth had called him. The fact that Gary had gone to her—his ex-girlfriend, it seemed—rankled in a manner Harry very much hoped to avoid examining at the present. Most important was keeping Gary safe and Ruth as well, since he'd placed her in such danger getting her involved.

When Harry told Gary he couldn't stay with Ruth, she was relieved. She didn't want him around, if she could help it. Gary had always been full of energy and excitement. He'd been able to convince Ruth she liked excitement as well, and that boundless energy of his had rubbed off on her for a time, blinding her to his supremely selfish and rather boorish ways. She was much better off without him.

But Harry told her that she couldn't stay, and she was a bit taken aback. He was right, of course, that if Gary was followed or being tracked—and he likely was—it wasn't safe for Ruth to remain in her house. Her mind filled with visions of staying with Harry till the danger was over, falling asleep in each other's arms for once not amidst physical and emotional pain. The thought of a kiss goodnight seemed rather lovely…

In the end, of course, Ruth was placed at the safe house with Gary. He was a bit of a nightmare and she was a bit better at getting him to behave than the other. But even Ruth couldn't prevent Gary from sneaking about and finding a phone and sending their attackers right through the front door.

Harry was nearly apoplectic when he got the call from Zaf that the safe house had been compromised. Ruth and Gary and Adam and Zaf were all unharmed, though one of the duty officers had been shot in the arm. Harry ordered them all back to the Grid immediately.

Thanks to Joanna Portman's clever trick of leaving her mobile in the car, they determined that someone within the Defence Ministry had ordered the attack. But without the call sign, they wouldn't know who.

"That's all we can do for tonight, I'm afraid." Harry stood from the table to dismiss everyone. "Gary will be staying here where he can't escape and cause more trouble. The rest of you, get some rest. You'll need it." As everyone turned to go, he said softer, "Ruth, a word?"

She followed him to his office. "Yes, Harry?"

"Do you need to be with him?" he asked, quietly but with urgency ringing through his tone.

"With Gary? I suppose not, but I am the reason we're in this mess."

"Do you want to be with him?" Harry pressed.

Ruth pushed some errant strands of hair back from her face. "Honestly, no. He's not the most pleasant person at the best of times. If I can, I'd like to have a break. I'd like to go to my own home, if I may."

Harry shook his head. "Not yet. Not till we know it's safe."

"We were shot at in a safe house, Harry. Where is safe?"

He hesitated for a moment. "My house," he whispered, barely audible.

"Harry..." she warned.

"Ruth, you were shot at tonight. And that's happening far too often for my liking. I know it's par for the course with the job but..."

Her lips quirked into a small smile. He was worried about her. That dear, sweet man. "Alright," she agreed.

Harry drove Ruth to his house and showed her the guest room, which surprised her a bit. She had agreed to come home with him, after all. But he was, as always, concerned with doing the right thing. It was utterly charming.

He left her alone to ready for bed. But in the stillness of the night, Ruth, wearing only the pajama shirt from the set of his he'd awkwardly given her to wear, padded down the hall from her room to his.

Harry wasn't asleep, but he knew better than to call attention to the fact. He was trained to be a light sleeper, always alert and ready, if need be.

Ruth pulled back the covers on his bed and slipped in. Without a word, he opened his arms to her. She snuggled close in his embrace. They fell asleep with Harry reverently stroking Ruth's hair and her breath tickling his chest.

If only just for now, Ruth was safe. Everything else would be sorted tomorrow. Somehow, it would all be better tomorrow. And perhaps tomorrow could start by waking with a kiss.


	13. Chapter 13

"Harry, please skip this part," Ruth begged, interrupting his tale.

"No, don't skip anything!"

Harry kept his gaze on Ruth, wordlessly communicating his understanding. "Yes, you're right. I'll skip it."

Their audience was not quite so understanding. "Why?"

Ruth sighed sadly. "You know Wes Carter?"

"Yes."

"His parents worked with us. His mother, Fiona, was an absolute gem. Beautiful and strong and one of the best agents in the world. Right around this time, she was killed. And it was so soon after Danny, who had died to save her. And knowing Adam lost the love of his life and Wes lost his mum...it was a really hard time. And it makes us sad to think about it sometimes," Ruth explained.

"This is a sad story."

"Yes, actually, it is," Harry agreed.

His mind drifted back to the funeral, to sitting next to Ruth and holding her hand the entire time. The way she'd cried when Adam had to get up and give the eulogy, all of it filled with truth of Fiona's character and lies of the facts surrounding her life and her death. It was the spook way, after all. But to see it so blatantly spelled out in front of them, having to watch Fiona's parents and son mourn in half-truths, it had nearly been too much for Harry to bear. Adam and Fiona were the perfect couple, perfectly in love and happy and working together and both brilliant officers. And that was all gone. Fiona was the one who died, but Adam wouldn't survive this. Not as he was. He'd never be the same. How could he?

And as Harry sat there in the church, holding Ruth's hand, he thanked a god he'd stopped believing in that Ruth—not quite his Ruth yet, but maybe one day—was safe behind her desk. It wasn't her job to go out looking for trouble like Fiona had. It wasn't her duty to stand up amidst danger. Ruth stayed behind her desk, as much as Harry could manage to keep her there, and quite frankly it was sheer miraculous luck that she'd managed to survive thus far. And it just wasn't fair that Harry should have the woman he loved sitting beside him when Adam had to bury his in the ground. It wasn't fair that Wes should lose his mother at seven years old when Harry had gotten to keep his mother, also named Fiona, until he was nearly twenty. There was never enough bloody time in this world, and always new troubles to remind them all of that awful fact.

Ruth forced a smile, interrupting Harry's morose memories. "But look how wonderfully everything's turned out, eh? There are plenty of good bits coming. I think you got suspended shortly after we lost Fiona, didn't you?"

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. His suspension was relatively delightful in comparison to Fiona's death. And it had worked rather well for Harry and Ruth as well.


	14. Chapter 14

_Early Spring 2006_

Harry sat on the sofa in his house watching television in the middle of the day for the first time in…longer than he could remember. Scarlett was delighted to have him home during daylight hours. She snuggled up on his lap, her tail wagging like mad. It made him smile to see his little dog so happy. At least one of them was pleased.

"You're a good girl, Scarlett, yes you are," he murmured as she licked his face. She soon settled down and let him lazily scratch her ears as he flipped channels. He found a quiz show to watch and wasted some time yelling answers at the screen. All he had was time, now.

Being given the sack was one of the more inconvenient things he'd experienced in recent years. It was even more obnoxious that Juliet bloody Shaw had been the one to do it. Not that he wouldn't have tried to hand in his resignation to the Home Secretary. It had been his decision to release Khurvin, who had turned around and murdered two of his agents. Disasters had resulted from Harry's leadership before, when his judgment calls had been wrong, and the HS had politely refused his resignation. It was the thing to do, in circumstances such as this. It rankled that Juliet had beat him to the punch here.

But Harry had no doubt that somehow, Adam and the team on the Grid would sort things out, and Harry would be reinstated. How soon, he couldn't be sure. As it was, they were all going through the rather pointless farce of having him surveilled and cutting off all contact with his team pending a disciplinary hearing.

"I'd like to see them try to discipline me," he grumbled. Scarlett looked up at the sound of his voice. He grinned at her and nuzzled her wet little nose. "You know that's right, don't you, Scarlett? You know I could blackmail every single one of those disciplinary committee members, and they know it, too."

His pointless musings to his dog were cut off by the doorbell. Scarlett had been well trained not to bark but she jumped off the sofa and stood ready for action. Harry hauled himself up as well, noticing that took a bit more effort than he was really comfortable with. His shirts had gotten a bit tighter. Sitting around wasn't going to help that one bit. Perhaps he should use the time off to try to get into shape and lose a few pounds. A few stone, more like.

Harry checked through the doorhole to see a delivery man with some bags of what looked like Chinese takeaway. He frowned, knowing he hadn't ordered any food, but answered the door anyway. "Yes?"

"Harry Pearce?" the delivery man asked.

"Yes."

"Food deliver for you, sir. All paid for. Receipt in the bag."

Harry took the enormous bag and the man walked away. Harry gave a glance at the van of officers he knew were put there to watch his house. He closed and locked the door behind him.

He carried the bag of food right into the kitchen and opened it up. "What have we here?" he wondered aloud.

The receipt the delivery man had told him about was right on top. But it wasn't really a receipt at all. It was a note. And he'd know that handwriting anywhere.

 _Harry, I don't know that you're used to being shut up in the house, so I wanted to make sure you had some proper food to eat. My neighbor works for a Chinese restaurant, and he gave me the boxes and agreed to bring this to you. I'm afraid it's not actually Chinese food, though. I made some proper comfort food for you, since I had a feeling you might need some comfort. I made it all, so it's probably awful, and you don't have to eat it. I just couldn't do nothing. And since I can't come see you myself, this is the best I could do. Take care of yourself, please, and don't get into any more trouble. Yours, R_

Oh she was a clever one, that Ruth. And to think she'd been worried about him and made packs of food for him herself. On the back of the note was a numbered list, presumably corresponding to the numbers on each of the boxes. Bubble and squeak, shepherd's pie, sticky toffee pudding, beef stew, blackberry fool, Yorkshire pudding.

Overwhelmed with his love for her and missing her something fierce, Harry immediately tucked in to the food—which wasn't as awful as Ruth proclaimed but perhaps not as good as his mother would have made—and began formulating a plan. He was still thinking about it when he went back to the television a bit later. And then he had it.

Harry took Scarlet for a walk to his newsagent and made the drop for Adam. Within two hours, he was at the dog track.

"Ruth's worried about you," Adam said, "She's worried you're living on crisps and canned tuna."

He had to chuckle. It amused him that Ruth worried Harry couldn't feed himself. He was actually a perfectly good cook. And he now knew he made a better shepherd's pie than Ruth did. Maybe he could make it for her sometime. Maybe they could make it together. But he just told Adam to thank her for him. He couldn't say too much just now, not with MI-5 listening in.

They chatted about Wes and the dogs and banal things for a while until they walked together over to the kennel areas. Harry took out his whistle and set the dogs to barking madly, interfering with the surveillance. He asked Adam to get Khurvin's file to him. And when he shook Adam's hand, he passed him a note.

When Adam got done being yelled at by Juliet, he asked Ruth to discreetly copy Khurvin's entire file onto a memory card for Harry. She smiled, pleased Harry was working out a way to get back to work, where they desperately needed him. She asked Adam how Harry was doing, but he just said, "Not now." As he walked away, however, he slipped a folded sheet of paper into the files Ruth was carrying.

She immediately hurried back to her station and unfolded it, hiding it so no one would notice her reading. It took everything in her to keep a neutral expression when she saw the familiar neat scrawl on the page.

 _Ruth, I want to thank you for the food parcels you sent. Everything was wonderful, and I should expect your cleverness by now, but you always seem to astound me. Is there nothing you can't do? Your kindness and concern for my wellbeing is, as always, a great comfort to me. I'm not sure how I ever earned such care from one such as you, but I treasure it. Keep your head down, work hard, continue to be just as clever. I hope to see you very soon. X_

She traced her finger's over his last line. He hoped to see her very soon. When 'very soon' might be, she wasn't sure. But Ruth suddenly found herself positively giddy at the prospect.


	15. Chapter 15

_Early Spring 2006_

Harry sat down on the bus and could barely keep himself from grinning. She was so lovely, sitting there with her Jane Austin. Her hair was pulled back from her face. She looked calm. At peace. "Nice night out," he stated, alerting her to his presence.

She smiled. Beautifully. "I thought you were some weirdo," she replied.

He nearly laughed. "I may not be your boss anymore, Ruth, but there's no need to be insulting."

"How did you know I'd be here?" she asked, visibly trying to suppress her expression.

Harry wished he were sitting beside her. Wished he could see her more clearly. Desperately wished he could touch her. "A couple of months ago, I passed you standing at the bus stop in the pouring rain," he replied. "I was being driven home. To my eternal shame—and now regret—I didn't stop."

If he didn't know better, he might say that Ruth was blushing. But perhaps it was just the light. "It's fine," she replied. "I like the bus." She paused for a moment, schooling her expression with a bit more focus. "I have something for you."

As she put her hand across the back of the bus seat, she slipped the memory card into his hand. The lingering caress of her fingers on his as he tried to discreetly pull away made him shiver. Oh how he longed to leap over the back of the seat and take her in his arms, to feel so much more than just the brush of her hand. "Thanks."

Ruth sat looking out the window now, unseeing. She was in profile, looking lovelier than perhaps he'd ever seen her. But it had been quite a few days since he'd seen her. His heart clamored in his chest, crying out for her, needing her with everything in him. That he loved her, that was something he'd known for quite some time now. But Harry realized that perhaps he'd gotten desensitized to it, working with her every day. Being without her, missing her, it was more than he could take. But these thoughts, these wistful longings, they'd get him nowhere for now. Best move along. "Keep an eye on Adam for me," he told her, trying to change the subject for his own sanity. "He's st—"

She turned back to face forward, cutting off his words. No, now was not the time for a chat. Not the time to tell her his worries of Adam, his wish that Ruth take care of Adam the way she took care of Harry. Well, not the way she took care of Harry. But there was something about Ruth, as young as she was, that came across as a bit of a mother hen. Zoe and Sam had both been around Ruth's age, but neither of them had ever been looked to for reassurance and comfort by the rest of the team the way they did with Ruth. She was special. But of course, Harry knew that.

He saw now that it was time to go. The bus was arriving at a stop where Harry would have to disappear into the night. He stood up and whispered, "Thank you." The smell of her hair filled him, and he could have sworn she shivered at the feel of his breath on her cheek.

Harry walked for a while through the dark London streets on his way home. He could have taken a cab, but walking felt like the better option tonight. To just blend into the pavement and spend a little time alone with his thoughts before he had to get home and get some work done. The memory card Ruth gave him was in his breast pocket, but it could wait a while.

This whole time, Harry had convinced himself that he'd be reinstated. That this mess would blow over and he'd be allowed to return to the Grid. And rationally, he knew that would eventually be the case. He just had to be patient.

But seeing Ruth in the bus, the torrent of emotion and yearning that he'd experienced, he suddenly felt pessimistic about the whole thing. What would he do if this really was the end, if he was actually through with the Service? Presumably he'd still have his pension, and his personal funds would keep him comfortable for quite a number of years. He'd find something else to do. Somehow. But as much as he knew better and didn't want to allow himself to even consider it, Harry couldn't help but contemplate what might happen if he could never see Ruth again.

Unfortunately, his feet had carried him to his front door right in the middle of that depressing hypothetical. Scarlett's little paws on the wood floor as she scurried to greet him made him smile, thankfully. "Sorry to leave you so long," he told the pup. "Out in the garden, Scarlett." He led her through the kitchen to the back door, letting her out. She'd do her business and sniff around like she liked, and she'd scratch at the door when she was ready.

Harry went into the living room to pour some scotch. He'd already settled on the sofa to take a few sips when he realized Scarlett hadn't scratched to be let in. Usually she didn't like being outside for too long. There wasn't much to interest her, usually, and she much preferred to stay as close to Harry as she could when he was home. Curious, he finished off his scotch and got up again to investigate.

Scarlett, it turned out, hadn't needed to come back inside because she was perfectly entertained out in the garden. Because in the shadows beside the house, crouched down and nearly hidden from view, was the most unexpected and thoroughly pleasing sight. There, scratching his little dog behind the ears, was Ruth. "You shouldn't be here," he warned quietly, not smiling but eyes alight all the same.

Ruth stood up and brushed herself off. "I'm glad she recognized me and didn't bark. I wasn't expecting to find her outside," she said quietly.

"She has a very good sense for things like this," Harry replied and then sighed, "Come in." He moved aside to let Ruth and Scarlett in the house.

"Scarlett seems like she's put on a little weight," Ruth noted once they were securely inside with the door locked.

Harry regraded his little dog spinning in excited circles at the prospect of having both himself and Ruth here to dote in her. "She's very sensitive," he defended.

Ruth smirked. "I think you're spoiling her."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead just changed the subject. "Would you like a drink, Ruth?"

"Yes, thank you."

She hung up her coat and left her purse by the front door, as had been customary the few times she'd been to his home before. Harry gave Scarlett a bone to entertain her in the kitchen so he and Ruth could be free to talk. He also poured himself another scotch and one for Ruth. They sat down on the sofa together. "What are you doing here, Ruth?" he asked softly, once they'd each taken a sip of their drinks.

"I…" she began, trailing off.

"Yes?" he prompted.

"I had to come see you. That moment on the bus. When you left…" Ruth sighed and hung her head. "I just couldn't bear it."

He frowned. "What couldn't you bear?"

She chewed on her lip and looked back at him. "How much I've missed you. Nothing's the same without you there. Adam is doing the best he can, but he can't handle it all on his own. And Juliet is a cow."

Harry nearly choked on his drink as he laughed at her unexpected derision of Juliet. "I am sorry. You know I'd be there if I could. And I am working on it, Ruth, I promise."

"I thought I was doing alright before I saw you tonight. But I just…" Ruth drained her scotch and put the empty glass on the table. "I need you to come back, Harry," she pleaded.

"And I want to come back. I've missed you terribly, Ruth. Everyone and the work and all but…especially you," he confessed softly.

Ruth searched his eyes for a moment. And then, as though in a moment of slow-motion magic, she placed a trembling hand on his cheek and leaned in. Harry's eyes closed on their own volition as he met her halfway, their lips colliding with a desperate sort of passion. Ruth took his face in both her hands, anchoring him to her. Harry had one hand at the side of her head, his fingers messing the pulled-back hairdo she'd sported. His other hand rested on her knee where the sat side beside on the sofa. As their kiss continued, that hand slid up her thigh, catching the material of her skirt.

This kiss was unlike those they'd shared in the past. It had been a long time, actually, since they'd had a quiet moment to come together this way. And never before had this heat built between them like this. They were gasping for each other, lips moving against one another, tongues caressing and teeth nipping wherever they could reach.

Harry couldn't get enough of her. She was warm and delicious and all his, in that moment. Her hands were wandering him now, in his hair and around his neck and then down around his waist. He'd never been so happy to leave his shirt untucked, when her dainty fingers found their way to the small of his back, clutching at his bare skin in a way that lit him aflame. He groaned with desire and pushed her back so she was lying beneath him.

Their heated kiss continued, building more and more between them. The feel of her under his body, the way she touched him. Harry grabbed her leg and pulled it up, hitching it over his hip. As he did so, her skirt fell back to expose her bare thigh. Her flesh was hot and so soft, he wanted to weep at the glory that was Ruth. Onwards his hand travelled, desperate to feel as much of her as he could. He was sucking on her tongue when his fingers found the edge of her knickers. Her breath hitched, and when he came into contact with the dampness that pooled between her thighs, Ruth emitted a throaty keening sound that was quite possibly the most erotic thing Harry had ever experienced.

But her sound caused an interruption to the lustful haze of his mind. Dear god, what was he doing!?

Harry pulled away from Ruth and sat on the far end of the sofa, his head in his hands, gasping for breath, begging his body to calm down. "I'm so sorry, Ruth."

She was lying on the sofa, breathless and confused. "Why are you sorry?

"I shouldn't...we can't. Not now. Not like this," he croaked.

"Oh."

He turned to see her sit up, hugging her knees to her chest in a rather dejected-looking ball. Her face was flush and her lips a bit swollen and her hair was a mess from the eager attentions of his hands. "You shouldn't be here, Ruth."

"But I'm here anyway," she pointed out

He gave a sad smile. "And I can't believe my luck. But you need to go before anyone finds out. Everything's such a mess right now. We'll get this sorted, everything with Khurvin and Pollard. I'll come back to work."

"I'm not here because I miss seeing you at work, Harry," she said quietly. "I mean, I am, but that's...well..."

"I know, Ruth. And I'm not glad to see you just because I miss seeing you at work."

"But we need to get things sorted," she stated knowingly.

"Yes." For once in his life, Harry felt like he hadn't said too much or too little. He'd said just enough. And Ruth understood. He didn't want her to leave. But she had to. What they were heading towards now, this wasn't something that could be taken for granted. This wasn't something he wanted with her on the sofa while his house was under surveillance. He needed so much more from her. To take her to bed, to worship and explore her, to spend a whole night wrapped up in her. And they couldn't have that. Not now.

Ruth exhaled and gave a small nod. "Okay." She stood up from the sofa to find her purse and coat. Harry stayed where he was, knowing he'd done the right thing stopping them before they went too far but absolutely hating himself for it. His mind might have known, but his body was aching with supreme displeasure with the entire situation.

She paused in front of him, leaning down to take his face in her hands and kiss her one last time. "We'll get things sorted," she whispered, kissing him one last time before slipping out the back door and out into the dark night.


	16. Chapter 16

"Harry?"

He was jolted out of his memories by Ruth's voice. He'd told the bit about meeting Ruth on the bus and worrying he'd never see her again. He had not explained the rest out loud, not wanting to share the intimate details of what had happened and what had nearly happened when Ruth came to his house that night. The way he'd almost lost control and shagged her senseless on the sofa. "Oh."

Harry noticed that Ruth was blushing slightly. Obviously she remembered that night as well. They'd actually never discussed it before. Had she wanted things to progress as he had, he wondered? He'd have to ask her later. When there wasn't an audience involved.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, reorienting himself to continue on. "Ruth, do you want to explain a bit about what came next?" he asked.

She frowned, regarding Harry with slight confusion. "Why, what came next?"

He was surprised she didn't remember. It had been a rather momentous occasion, if it could be referred to as such a thing. "Angela Wells," he replied simply.

"Oh! Oh god, I suppose we do have to explain a few things, don't we?" she realized with a disappointed sigh. This was not a topic Ruth relished in the slightest, and Harry knew she didn't enjoy speaking about her history with Angela or Peter if she could at all help it.

"Explain what?" came the sharp demand from their audience.

Ruth couldn't help but smile at that inquisitive nature at work. "Well, you know my father died when I was little. And my mother remarried. She married a man named David. And David had a son named Peter. And Peter and I were very close for a long time, until I left to go to Oxford. Peter was a bit in love with me, and I thought for a time that I was in love with him. But Peter was a very troubled man, always was. And I had problems of my own that I thought I could fix by taking care of Peter. He dragged me down, though. He wasn't good for me. He was never very strong, and he took advantage of my kindness, and I never forgave him for the way he tried to manipulate me when we were young."

Harry listened to Ruth's explanation with great interest. He knew very, very little of the truth between her and Peter Haig. She didn't ever volunteer the information, and Harry knew better than to ask, particularly after what had happened with Angela.

Ruth continued, "Peter dated a woman named Angela Wells for a very long time. She worked with Harry in MI-5, and she was an incredible agent. Peter worked for the Royal Protection Service. He was assigned to protect Princess Diana before he was given the sack for his drinking. And when Diana died, he lost his mind. He was convinced that the government had assassinated her, and when he couldn't prove it, he killed himself. And Angela wanted to avenge his death. She came to me to help her, but I thought it was insanity. But then she came to the Grid and held us all hostage with a bomb in her bag." Ruth's voice took on a bitter tone, so Harry cut her off.

"Angela was a brilliant officer in her day, and she knew exactly what to do in order to take over and get what she wanted, which was to try and prove that a file for the Contingent Events Committee, which my name was on, had planned and carried out Diana's death."

"And did you?!"

Harry scoffed, "Of course not. Our committee was charged with planning for the worst case scenario. Which, unfortunately, came true. We had nothing to do with it. The coincidence was rather frightening, though. But Angela was too emotional to listen to truth. And it was Ruth, with her history with Peter, who saved us all."

Ruth herself lowered her gaze and began wringing her hands. She still didn't like to think about it, he knew, the lie she'd told to Angela. Having to say those words to wound that woman so deeply had affected Ruth as well. But Harry knew all too well the cost of such things, the true cost to the self of protecting others. It was a lesson Ruth had learned that day that had changed her irrevocably.


	17. Chapter 17

_Spring 2006_

Harry waited by the door as Angela walked out, sobbing. Adam and Zaf immediately took her and cuffed her. Ruth waited in the hallway, looking completely shell-shocked.

"Well done," he praised

She turned to him, fire in her eyes. "Oh you think so?"

Harry nodded. "You broke her."

"Maybe I broke me too," Ruth replied, spitting the words out as though they were going to make her sick.

"That's adrenaline withdrawal," he explained.

Ruth just nodded and answered sarcastically, "Oh is that what it is? Good. Good."

He interjected, "Ruth."

"I lied. I told her I slept with my step brother. I sold myself. My feelings. To manipulate her." There was a fire in her gaze and in her voice that immediately lit Harry ablaze.

He shoved her against the wall and hissed, "You think I'm a limited man? You think I don't understand the emotional side? Self-control. Self-denial. These are the things which keep us together in this job. You told a huge lie about your personal life."

"Yes and I can't bear it that I did."

But he pressed on, "And aren't you proud you had the nerve to tell that lie?"

"It was horrible," she protested weakly.

"Aren't you proud you told the lie? Aren't you proud you talked Angela out of that room?"

She paused for a beat before she whispered, "God forgive me."

Harry smiled, just a bit. "You're a born spook, Ruth." He spared a glance at her lips before he forced himself to turn away before he did something he would regret. It was a night of high emotion. He needed to walk away.

"I stole the MD reader," Ruth called to him.

"Then put it back," he murmured before walking away. But he returned, a fraction of a second later. Ruth was still standing against the wall of the corridor, all out of sorts. He grabbed her chin in his hand and kissed her roughly before walking away again without a word.

It was the worst possible thing to do, and Harry knew it. But her lips were just there and pouting and so deliciously kissable. And she was goading him. He had spoken an uncomfortable truth that she hadn't wanted to hear, she was upset over all that had transpired, wanting to make him upset as well, and Harry was actually pleased about it and took advantage of the moment. God forgive her for the lie she told? God forgive him for liking it.

The decision was made to let Angela Wells go free. She was an agent in the field. There was a code to follow. She'd been a good officer, once. But she'd broken, as Harry had seen so many do before.

Harry let Adam deal with it. He walked back into his office and drew the blinds.

Ruth made her way into Harry's office without knocking and closed the door behind her. "Harry?"

He sighed, not quite ready to face her yet. "Yes, Ruth?"

"About earlier, in the corridor…"

Harry interrupted whatever she was going to say. "I'm sorry, Ruth. There's no excuse for that."

"You were a bit...rough," she remarked, blushing slightly.

The few kisses they'd shared before had been soft and tender, though a passion had sparked between them ever since his suspension that Harry had tried to avoid fueling. Obviously his own attempts at self-control and self-denial had failed him where she was concerned. He looked down at his desk, ashamed at how he'd manhandled her.

"It was a bit exciting."

He looked up, surprised. "Was it?"

"Erotic, actually," she said, looking down with her own embarrassment.

A smug smile curled over his lips. "That's good to know."

"Yes well, um, it's been a rather difficult night. I'll be getting to proper work now."

"Before you go, Ruth?"

"Yes?"

Harry stood up and walked over to her, getting very close to where she stood by the door. "Is it true? What you told Angela about Peter?" he asked softly.

Ruth glared at him for daring to ask her that question. "Does it matter? What I said worked. Weren't you just telling me I should be proud of it?" she spat.

"The truth does matter, Ruth. You more than anyone else know that," he snapped.

She frowned. "Why me more than anyone else?"

His expression softened. "Because you remind the rest of us of what matters."

Ruth was quiet, contemplating his words.

Harry continued, "You don't have to tell me whether or not you lied to Angela. I don't need to know. It doesn't matter to me. But you need to remember that the truth matters, whether or not we use it for our purposes."

She nodded slowly.

"And one more thing?"

"Yes?"

He couldn't believe he had the gall to make such a request when she was surely still cross with him, but he couldn't bear to leave it like this. "Another kiss. A nicer one."

She looked up at him with slight surprise, but she smiled. "I'd like that," she whispered.

Harry cupped her cheek in his hand and leaned in to gently brush his lips against hers. While he now knew that a bit of roughness could turn her on, this wasn't about that. He sought only to comfort her, to remind her of their softness together after the intensity of the day and their encounter in the hall. After a moment, he pulled away. "Thank you, Ruth. Take care of yourself," he whispered.

Ruth captured one more quick kiss from him. "You too, Harry."

She turned and slid through his office door. He opened the blinds to watch her from the window as she went to her desk. Ruth turned and gave him a soft smile. But Harry was distracted as Adam came into his office a moment later. Angela was on her way out, and Juliet had been announced at the entrance to Thames House. Back to work.


	18. Chapter 18

_Spring 2006_

Angela Wells, the traitorous bitch. Harry would curse her till his own dying day. She'd tricked his team, she'd upset Ruth, she'd made them all look like fools, she'd shot Adam, and then she'd launched herself off the roof before Harry could have the pleasure of having her killed.

"Uncle Harry?"

Harry looked up from his quiet, sulking rage. "Yes, Wes?" he replied to the sweet young boy in front of him.

"Is my dad okay?" he asked in his soft little voice, so full of worry.

For the first time in a very long time, Harry could tell the honest truth. "Yes, Wes. Your dad is going to be okay. He got hurt, and the doctors fixed him up. He's sleeping right now, at the hospital. And he'll get to come home in a few days," Harry assured him.

"Are you sure?" Wes asked skeptically.

Harry remembered that Adam had taken nearly a month to tell the boy that his mother was dead. Wes was right to be wary. Harry sighed and reached out to him. "Come here, Wes." He pulled the little boy onto his lap and hugged him close. "I promise you, your dad is alright and he's going to come home. Your grandparents are going to be by in the morning, and they'll take you to see him."

"Why can't you take me?"

"I've got to go to work, I'm afraid. And I've got Scarlett at home waiting for me. But I'll be here till you fall asleep," Harry promised.

The two were quiet for a moment, snuggling there on the sofa of Adam's house, the new one he'd moved them to after Fiona died. Too many memories in the old one. Though Harry could see that there might not be too many good memories made in this one just yet.

All of a sudden, Harry got the distinct feeling he was being watched. It was a feeling he knew very well. He looked up to find Ruth leaning against the doorjamb, her arms folded and her eyes sparkling as she gazed at Harry and Wes with a soft smile. Their eyes met, and they shared that smile for a moment.

Ruth broke the quiet when she called gently, "Time for bed, Wes."

Harry patted the boy's back. "Up you get."

"Go get your teeth brushed and when you're all ready, I'll tuck you in and tell you a story, alright?"

Wes nodded.

"And I'll come say goodnight to you before I go," Harry added.

"But I'll stay here all night," Ruth told him.

"But what about your cats?"

She smiled. "Cats are alright on their own for a day or two. But Scarlett needs Harry to take care of her. That's why I'm staying and he has to go."

That seemed to satisfy Wes. As he passed by her, Ruth pressed a kiss to the top of Wes's head. He scurried off to his room, and Ruth crossed to where Harry sat. He held his arm out to wrap around her shoulders as she flopped down on the sofa beside him. She sighed and rested her head on his chest. "You're really sweet with him."

Harry hummed in agreement. "I was rubbish at being Dad, but Uncle Harry seems to suit me alright. I've never been good when it counts."

"You're wonderful when it really counts," Ruth contradicted.

There wasn't a response that Harry could think of, so he fell silent. He turned his head and breathed in the beautiful scent of her hair, letting her presence wash over him and bring him the peace and comfort only Ruth could provide. Oh, to sit like this with her, without horror on their heels. It was rare. Nonexistent, really. Adam had nearly died that day, and Harry and Ruth had stayed with Wes to entertain him while they waited for the phone call on bated breath. Wes knew Ruth and Harry better than the others, so they were the logical choice. The fact that Harry took solace in playing house with her for a few hours was very much beside the point.

"When he's able, Adam's going to have to find a nanny for Wes. He'll be home for a while, which will be good for them both, but after he recovers and comes back to work, he needs to have someone permanent. The last-minute babysitters and calling Fiona's parents isn't sustainable," Ruth pointed out. "You should have a talk with him."

Harry grumbled, "It's not our place to interfere, Ruth."

"You're the one who told me once that we're a family on the Grid. We care about each other and take care of each other."

"When on earth did I say that?"

"When I was tied to a bannister overnight and Andrew Forrestal was dead at my feet," she replied darkly. "You told me that Danny and Sam and Adam were worried about me, that we're a family and they'd go to the ends of the earth to save me. And now Adam needs saving. Maybe not from mad terrorists, but from the chaos of his own grief and avoidance."

"We'll get it sorted," Harry told her, effectively cutting off the conversation.

It was another month before they did get it sorted. Ruth wouldn't let Harry forget about it. Adam came back to work early, after only four weeks away, and Ruth practically held Harry's phone hostage until he agreed. And she stayed in the room to ensure he did what he was supposed to do.

Harry dialed Adam's mobile, since he'd gone home to rest. He picked up on the second ring. "Yep?"

"The Anti-Terror Bill is being defeated in the Commons, Adam. Half the government's MPs joined the opposition," Harry told him, launching right in.

"Well that was to be expected. It was full of holes."

"The Home Secretary is demanding inter-agency cooperation to get to the bottom of the recent attacks. We're to host the meetings here at Thames House," Harry said through gritted teeth.

Adam's sarcastic reply was loud and clear. "Put padlocks on all the computers and hide the stationary."

Seeing they were getting distracted from her agenda, Ruth stepped in. "Adam, it's Ruth." She leaned in very close to ensure the speakerphone caught her.

Harry very much didn't mind, but he couldn't let her take over. He put his hand up to keep her slightly back. "Ruth wouldn't allow me to make this call unless I added she thinks its time you found someone permanent for Wes."

"I haven't got time to to—"

"No, no, I'll do it, Adam, leave it with me," Ruth interjected. "Well, as long as you trust me to get the right person."

She leaned in to the phone again, and this time Harry allowed her to. She was about six inches from his face now, focused on what she was doing. Harry was relatively unfazed by it, finding a deep sense of normalcy in their increased closeness. But they were in his office with the blinds up in the middle of the day. Now was not the time for such proximity.

Adam told Ruth he trusted her, and they hung up the call.

"Happy now?" Harry asked her, turning his chair to create a bit of distance between them.

"Yes. I'll get going on this right away. I don't think we should wait any longer in choosing someone," Ruth said decidedly.

"Just don't get anyone attractive," Harry warned.

Ruth was positively scandalized. "Harry, his wife just died!"

"Yes, exactly, his wife just died."

"Oh, Harry!" she scolded.

Clearly Ruth did not approve of Harry's rather unsavory opinion of a grieving widower. "Trust me, Ruth," he insisted.

Her eyes narrowed. "I see," she replied knowingly.

Harry nodded. "I was about Adam's age when I got divorced. I know how it can be."

Ruth scoffed, "From what I've heard, nothing much stopped you before you were divorced."

"Yes, well, I didn't love my wife the way Adam loved Fiona. But a man finding himself unattached and a bit lonely? Best not give him temptation."

"That is supremely uncharitable to Adam's character," Ruth admonished. "Not to mention whatever nanny I find to hire. He might not be her type!"

Harry just rolled his eyes. "Adam Carter is every woman's type."

"Not mine."

His eyes snapped up to meet hers. "Oh?"

Ruth only smirked in response. Her cheeks turned a beautiful rosy color, and she pursed her lips, trying not to smile too widely. She averted her eyes to her fidgeting hands, as she often did when she felt herself put on the spot. "I've got to get back to work, Harry," she mumbled, rushing out of the room.

Harry just sat at his desk for a little while, grinning with immense satisfaction.


	19. Chapter 19

_Early Summer 2006  
_

"I've spoken to the doctors today," Harry said, sitting on the edge of Juliet's hospital bed and trying to ease her growing fury over Jocelyn Myers. "They're a little more hopeful."

"No immunity for Myers," she insisted. "I mean it. He stands trial."

Her harsh stare was broken by movement at the window. Ruth walked up and knocked gently on the glass to get Harry's attention.

Juliet rolled her eyes. "Oh there's the spaniel."

Harry wanted to roll his own eyes. Spaniel indeed, as though Ruth would heel for him or for any man. "Shame they can't replace your spine with your tongue," he replied dryly.

"Are you in love with Ruth, Harry?"

His heart jumped to his throat, the very idea that his innermost yearnings had somehow become clear to her. To Juliet, of all people. "Do the words 'skating,' 'thin,' and 'ice' mean anything to you?" Sarcasm was a cheap and flimsy cover, but it's all he could come up with in the moment.

"I'm disabled. I'm allowed a special license."

Harry nearly smiled at that response. Same old Juliet. "Well, Ruth has many wonderful qualities," he replied carefully. Probably too carefully.

"That's not what I asked you."

"It's the only answer you're going to get."

"She's in love with you," Juliet revealed bluntly.

"Is that so?"

"Yes." She didn't miss a single beat. It was rather terrifying, actually, the intensity of her tone, the surety of her statements.

"Well that's one to ponder."

Juliet regarded him a bit softer, pausing before murmuring, "Don't let this opportunity pass you by, Harry."

And Harry wasn't quite sure what to say to that. He and Juliet Shaw hadn't had a quiet conversation in a bed in quite a long time. This might have been the first time they'd shared any honest or caring words on a bed with their clothes on, come to think of it.

She reached out and swatted at his side. "Now go. Go. I want to watch the PM address the nation."

Harry stood up at her request, feeling more tenderness for this woman than he had in a number of years. From the moment he'd heard the explosion of her car and sprinted to find her screaming and bleeding on the ground, a long-buried piece of Harry's heart seemed to resurface. And now, weary from turmoil and near-death experiences as he was, he found himself looking at her almost fondly. Even crippled and lying in a hospital bed, there was a fierceness and loveliness about Juliet that had always inspired affection in him, and he felt it again now. She would always be like some forgotten dream to him. And while the direction of this conversation had made him unspeakably disconcerted, he couldn't find it in him to begrudge her.

With a final little nod to Juliet, Harry left her room to join Ruth where she waited in the hall.

"Zaf told me you came here from the detention center. Have you changed clothes? Have you eaten? No, of course you haven't," she rattled off rather hurriedly.

"Do I look like I haven't changed clothes or eaten in twenty-four hours?" he asked back, teasing her.

Ruth chuckled lightly. "Yes, actually, you do. You're still a bit soggy, aren't you?"

"Better than being covered in gasoline. The sprinklers managed to get rid of most of that," he replied.

She leaned in and gave a comically overdramatic sniff of his jacket. "Most of it, sure."

Harry grinned at her delightful teasing. It felt so good to be back with her again. No chaos dogging their steps for the moment. It was all over, for now.

Ruth grabbed hold of his hand as they walked, holding it tightly in hers. It had been quite some time since she'd needed to hold his hand; it wasn't too often anymore that much of anything really rattled her. But the events of the week had certainly been harrowing. He'd nearly died a few times over. And now the conversation with Juliet was making his head spin.

They'd lost a member of their team this week. Harry quickly sobered at the thought. Malcolm had been so strong through everything, even including his outrage directed at Harry that day they'd gotten the news about Colin. Harry had hated getting that call. No call like that was ever easy to bear, but Colin? Brilliant, gentle desk spook Colin? He'd told Adam first. Practice over the phone for the absolute nightmare that awaited. He'd had to tell Ruth and Malcolm next. Malcolm ran from the room, sick to his stomach. And Ruth just crumpled.

And then they'd all had to soldier on. The threat was unrelenting, Collingwood and Myers and their cronies. Adam had been absolutely correct, they had to wait and see what to do, which they did. The Home Secretary had been attacked, Juliet would never walk again. Oh Juliet, that tempting Jezebel who haunted his dreams, even still.

Well, perhaps not right now, not in the same way. Juliet was his past, his dirty and shameful past, forcing him to take a hard look at himself when he didn't want to. But Ruth was his present and, hopefully, his future. He held her hand tight in his, drawing comfort once again from her presence.

They exited the hospital and Ruth pulled him off to the side. "Harry…" she began, faltering for a moment.

"Yes, Ruth?" he answered, standing perhaps a bit closer than was advisable.

"You're…you're alright?"

He nodded. "I am. A bit tired, but I'm alright," he promised with a small smiled.

Ruth gazed into his eyes. There was magic in that gaze. A sparkle of brilliance. A shine of hope and perhaps, if he dared to believe it, love.

Christ, was Juliet really right? Could Ruth really possibly be in love with him? Harry knew he was more in love with her every single day. Her beauty, her kindness, her intelligence, and her unbelievable strength. Standing here in front of her now on the street beside the hospital, all Harry wanted to do was pull her into his arms, kiss her and hold her tight and never let her go. Whatever might happen, he wanted to be with her.

"You should do better to avoid situations like this. Getting nearly blown up and then locked away and then doused in gasoline," she scolded.

"Yes, Ruth, I'll do better," he placated.

She frowned. "I mean it, Harry. I know you were only gone for a day, but my nerves just cannot take it. I…I need you to be around," she pleaded.

Her words were vaguely familiar to Harry. She'd said something rather similar when she'd snuck to his house during his suspension. She needed him. However it was that she needed him didn't quite faze him. She needed him, and he desperately needed her. "I'll be around, Ruth. I'll never let you go," he vowed, reminding her of the promise he'd made the day Danny died and Harry had spent the night in her bed, holding her close to comfort her in her grief.

Her eyes searched his face, as though looking for his sincerity, hunting for a way to believe him. "Good," she finally replied with a satisfied nod.

Again, he wanted to reach out and hold her. But again, he refrained. They stared at each other for a long time. Harry eventually had to break the spell, unfortunately. "I've got to be getting back to the Grid. Check in on things. But you should go home," he insisted.

Ruth opened her mouth to say something, perhaps refute his instruction, but she closed her mouth again. "Okay," she conceded.

"I can have my driver give you a lift," he offered, feeling both chivalrous duty and personal desire to remain with her a bit longer.

But Ruth shook her head. "I'll take the bus home. It's not far. I'll see you tomorrow, Harry." She let go of his hand at last.

He sighed internally. "See you tomorrow, Ruth." They went in opposite directions, Ruth to her bus stop and Harry to where his driver was waiting.

Tomorrow would be another day. Harry had quite a lot to ponder, after he got some work done. It was time to give some thought to what tomorrow might look like.


	20. Chapter 20

"Honestly, Harry, do you have any idea how panicked I was? Malcolm told me one of the cars exploded and there wasn't any word of whose it was or if you were alright and I just absolutely lost my mind. And then when you went missing, detained god only knew where, and I was screaming on the phone to the police to try to quell a planned riot!?"

He smiled fondly at her outburst. "Yes, I know, it's a wonder you didn't strangle me yourself when you came and got me from the hospital."

"Strangling was not what I wanted to do with you," she replied gravely.

Harry's good humor sobered. "Yes, Ruth, I know."

She frowned. "Do you? I mean really? Because by then I was totally gone for you. Utterly ensnared by my completely irrational but entirely consuming need to be with you. And that in and of itself scared me to death, but the very real threat of you being killed? I really wouldn't have been able to go on, I don't think. After Danny and Fiona and then poor Colin, my god, I just pictured having to sit there in the church at your funeral."

He could see she was getting too worked up. "Shh, it's alright, Ruth. That's all over. It's all behind us," he reminded her.

"Were you really almost killed?" a small voice asked.

Harry was instantly reminded of something Catherine used to always say. "Too clever to be caught for long. Too good to stay down. Too stubborn to ever die," he remembered aloud.

"That's what Catherine first told me when I met her," Ruth realized.

"She says that all the time!" Harry's audience exclaimed. "Ever since I was little, that's what she says about you!"

Harry laughed. "Yes, Catherine's always been wise. And good with words."

"And I'm glad she's told that to you," Ruth said, stroking sandy blonde curls. "Gives you a good idea what we're all up against with the great Harry Pearce."

That remark made Harry roll his eyes. "Yes, the great Harry Pearce. Stands up to communists and terrorists without question but takes two whole weeks to find the nerve to ask a woman out on a dinner date."

"Well, that can't have been a usual occurrence for you," Ruth noted.

"Asking a woman out on a dinner date?"

She chuckled, "No, being afraid of it for two weeks."

"That's very true," Harry conceded, his mind filled with memory once again.


	21. Chapter 21

_Summer 2006_

It only took him two days to make the decision. He was going to ask her to dinner. Harry was going to ask Ruth to have dinner with him. Take her on a date. A proper date. No more only stealing kissing amidst panic and grief, no more holding hands only in shadows when they needed comfort to keep from falling completely to pieces. No, it was time now to do this properly. He was in love with her, had been for a while, and infuriatingly, Juliet was right; he was not going to let this opportunity pass him by. If he wanted a real future with her—which he desperately did—he needed to do something about it.

And so he'd booked a table at a restaurant. He'd made the reservation well in advance, giving himself enough time to work up the courage to ask her, to find the right moment for it. After all, he couldn't just come right out and ask her to dinner. He needed to plan what to say, how to explain his intentions. Should he explain his intentions? Or would she know? Well, Ruth was a highly intelligent woman and a brilliant analyst so surely she would figure it out.

But unfortunately, all this with Project Waterfall, with Zaf infiltrating an AQ cell and Ros and Adam at odds and Jo just trying to keep up, things had gotten a bit out of hand. Ruth was working hard finding the arms dealer who would be selling the thermobaric bomb, and getting that bomb was the priority now. Never mind that the dinner reservation was that night. They had more important things to be getting on with.

Harry went up to the roof, always finding a bit of peace in the fresh air and the altered perspective looking out over the London rooftops. He asked Ruth to join him. They both tended to think better without the constant distractions on the Grid.

As he heard her approach, he turned slightly. "Word from the cousins is that our bomb may have gone AWOL from Afghanistan two years ago."

"I've got possible dealers down to a short list of three," she told him.

She was standing very close to him. He liked that she did that. He liked being close to her. It was a bit distracting perhaps, but comforting all the same. Besides, they were professionals. Used to this by now. Perhaps they'd both do their jobs better if they could do so from the safety of being in each other's arms. "Destruction of central London doesn't come cheap," he replied darkly.

Ruth nodded. "I'm not naïve."

Harry frowned, turning to see her rather flinty expression. "I didn't say you were."

"Bad enough that the bombers are homegrown, now they're gonna blow us up with our own weapons."

"You're absolutely right." He straightened up, turning to face her straight on. Harry didn't like seeing her so frustrated. So disheartened. But oh, even so, she was ever so lovely. He had to resist the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her and tell her everything would be alright. But they both knew that would be a lie. Even if perhaps everything did turn out alright, Harry had no way of knowing and he had no right to say it. "Would you like to have dinner one night?"

She looked at him with confusion and surprise. "I'm sorry?"

Harry could have kicked himself, letting it slip out like that. He was going to do this better. He'd wanted to do this better. But this was Ruth, and from the very first, she'd knocked him off balance. Well, he was in it now. May as well see it through. "Dinner," he repeated. Seeing the completely blank expression on her face, he faltered. "That is, if you'd like to, of course."

"That…that's quite a conversation shift," she stammered, averting her gaze like she always did when she was feeling a bit uncomfortable. But she looked back at him, and she didn't run away.

"Well onto a rather happier topic than weapons of mass destruction," he quipped. "Or your naivety."

"I'm not naïve," she insisted. But there was a sparkle in her eyes and the attempt to hide the smile on her face that gave Harry quite a bit more confidence.

"I booked a table," he confessed. "At a place I think you'd like."

"Very presumptuous of you," she teased.

Oh she was getting a bit playful now. Clearly she was enjoying his bumbling attempt to ask her out. He hadn't scared her off, it seemed. Thank god.

"I might have said no."

"Well, I'll go anyway." Christ, why was his heart pounding so hard? He'd not felt this nervous when he'd been held at gunpoint. His voice hadn't even wavered like this when he'd been doused in gasoline inside that detention center. Why must she toy with him!? "I'll be like the Charlie Chaplin character waiting for the girl and making the bread rolls dance." He was babbling now, making silly gestures with his hands, making a right fool of himself.

But she smiled. Oh dear lord, he did love her smile. And he had made her smile. Harry's heart fluttered a bit at that.

"What film was that?"

"Gold Rush."

"Ah, yes." Harry nodded. Of course she knew. Ruth knew everything, it seemed.

"You won't have to. Wait, I mean. I'd love to have dinner…together." Ruth seemed just as flustered as Harry was. They were no good at this, either of them. Harry did know Ruth was a bit of a timid deer with things like this, but she hadn't ever been with him before.

"That's good," was all he had managed to say in return. She gave a small nod and the tiniest smile and hurried back down to the Grid.

He watched her walk away in sheer awe. He hadn't been so awkward around a beautiful woman since he was a schoolboy asking a girl to a dance. But of course, this was entirely new territory for Harry. Asking out Ruth. Being together. In public. Without work. It might have just been dinner, but he knew that this was a big step. It's why it had taken him two weeks to get the nerve to ask her. And she had said yes, had said she'd love to have dinner with him. So perhaps he hadn't bungled it all as much has he'd thought.

Harry turned back to lean against the wall and look out over the city. Everything seemed to look a bit prettier now. Kinder, somehow. And Harry smiled.


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: M-rating for this chapter**

 _Summer 2006_

"White burgundy. Thermobaric bombs."

"Quite a species, aren't we?"

Harry watched her, sitting across from him at their small, intimate little table. Her hands worrying the hem of a napkin. She was nervous. He didn't like when she was nervous. Though to be fair, everything about this evening had been so out of the ordinary for them both.

It was strange, being himself like this. Strange and altogether rather wonderful. He wasn't on the Grid, he wasn't in the midst of crisis, he wasn't Harry Pearce, Section Head. No, here, on a date with Ruth, he was just Harry. And all he wanted to do was share the rest of that bottle of wine and talk softly with her about dreams for the future. Of taking the Grand Tour. Of spending quiet time away from the horrors that dogged their every step. He wanted that, and he wanted that with her.

But their meal had ended and soon the wine would be gone. Harry would pay the bill and take her home and that would be that. He so desperately didn't want to leave her, didn't want to return to the reality that kept them apart. "Would you fancy a walk?" he asked rather suddenly.

"A walk?"

"Yes, I know my driver brought us, but I can send him away. We can walk for a while and I'll pay for a cab to take you home when you want."

"I could take the bus," she suggested.

He glared at her slightly. And she smiled, thankfully. Harry leaned in closer to her and spoke in a low tone, "It's odd, isn't it? Being in public. Not working."

She looked down at her hands and gave a nod. "It is a bit, yes."

"We seem to do alright when it's just us, even when we aren't at work."

Ruth nodded again.

"Take a walk with me, Ruth."

And with a small smile, she agreed. Harry paid for their meal and helped her with her coat for the chilly summer night and led her out into the dark London street. They made it about half a block before Ruth took his hand.

"I meant to tell you earlier how very pretty you look this evening," he told her.

"Oh. Thank…thank you. I wasn't quite sure what to wear or…or how to look. I don't really do this much."

"Go out to dinner?"

"Date. Particularly not…" She trailed off, clearly not wanting to finish that sentence.

But Harry pressed. "Particularly not what?"

"Particularly not with someone who knows what I look like. I mean, you've seen me at my very worst, Harry."

"Have I?"

"I should think so. We regularly work all day and all night. You saw me after I'd been kidnapped and tied to a bannister for hours. You saw me after I got dumped in the woods and chased by a madman with a crossbow. I should hope that's the worst I'll ever look."

Harry chuckled. "I suppose so. But I will also say that you always look rather lovely. I just know better than to mention it on the Grid. You're wearing more makeup tonight than you have been recently. You used to wear it more often," he noted.

"We've been rather busy lately. And tonight was special, so I wanted to try to make the effort."

"The effort is very much appreciated. Makes me feel like I should have worn a tie."

"I'm glad you didn't. I like the blue shirt by itself like that. Not like Grid Harry."

"Grid Harry?"

"Yes, Grid Harry. Sharp-tongued and stern and a little scary."

"As opposed to…?"

"Just plain Harry, I suppose. Like you are when we're…when we're alone. Like you've been tonight."

He smiled, knowing he'd thought about the exact same thing not an hour earlier. "I don't often get to be just plain Harry," he mused.

"I'd imagine not."

"But from the first, Ruth, you saw through Grid Harry. You took me quite by surprise, actually. I felt comfortable to be myself around you. I've never quite had a friend I could rely on in that way in quite some time" he confessed.

"Are we friends, Harry?"

"Yes, I think so. But I also rather hope we're a bit more than friends."

She hummed in agreement.

They walked along, hand in hand, a very comfortable silence falling between them. It wasn't too far to Ruth's house, and it was a rather nice night, so they just kept walking.

"This is me," she announced.

Harry let go of her hand but followed her up to the front door. Ruth was getting nervous again, he could tell. She wouldn't look at him. And now that the end of the evening was upon them, he was getting a bit nervous himself.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening, Harry," she said shyly.

"It was my pleasure, Ruth," he replied softly, smiling at her.

"Best dinner I've had in a long time. The food. And the restaurant, and everything." She was babbling as she went fishing for her keys out of her purse. "And you," she added.

"Me?" Harry grinned, genuinely surprised and delighted that she had said anything about him specifically.

"Yes, you," she said, looking up into his eyes now. "You're wonderful."

Harry briefly wondered how much of that white burgundy she'd had to drink if she was saying things like that. But he decided to take a chance. He reached out and gently cupped her cheek in his hand. His thumb caressed her cheekbone, and he felt her sigh happily into his touch. "You're rather wonderful yourself. Exquisite, actually," he murmured.

Ruth tried to look away as she blushed at his compliment, but he wouldn't let her. He held her face still and leaned in for a soft kiss. Just a brush of his lips over hers. The perfect end to a lovely evening, their first date.

It seemed, however, that Ruth had other ideas. She threw her arms around his neck and deepened their kiss. Her tongue traced the seam of his lips, delving into his mouth as soon as he opened it. Harry could help but respond in kind pulling her flush against him, his hands roaming the expanse of her back over her coat.

She eventually pulled away. "Oh Harry," she whispered.

It took him a moment to blink back to reality from the fog of lust she'd inspired in him. He saw that she had her keys in her hand, turning them between her fingers. Harry still hand his hands on her waist. "Do you want to invite me in, Ruth?" he asked with a slightly seductive growl.

"I shouldn't," she replied weakly.

"Why not?"

She didn't answer. She kept her eyes away from his, as though she knew what would happen if she dared look at him.

"Ruth, if you'd like me to go, say goodnight. I'll kiss you one more time and call a cab. But if you'd like me to come inside with you, I think you'd better open the door before we're spotted snogging on the porch like a couple of teenagers." To emphasize his point, his hands wandered around to her bum and squeezed her firm flesh. He knew it was a bit cruel, but he didn't care. He'd stopped them from going too far once before. That hadn't been the time for them. But this could be. This could be the time for him, if Ruth wanted it to be. Harry certainly did. And he had to prevent his groan of desire as she gave a breathy moan in delight at his touch.

In her haste to try to get the door open, Ruth dropped her keys. She scrambled out of Harry's embrace to bend down and pick them up. She found herself at eye level with a rather conspicuous bulge in his trousers, and she let out a light gasp.

"Ruth?"

She stood back up to face him.

"Open the door," he insisted, wrapping one arm around her waist and knowing he'd never want to let her go.

As soon as they were inside, Ruth began kissing him again. She kicked the door closed behind her and started pushing his coat off his shoulders as she simultaneously tried to get rid of her own. Their mouths were hungry for each other, and as she kissed him, Ruth moaned his name over and over against his lips.

Harry wasn't sure if he'd ever been so aroused so quickly in all his life. For being so reticent and analytical of anything and everything that came across her path, Ruth was incredibly passionate. She'd been like this that night on his sofa when she'd snuck into his house during his suspension. She wasn't nervous anymore; she made it quite clear that she wanted him.

"Where's your bedroom?" he growled, letting his coat and jacket fall to the floor while he tried to undo the buttons of Ruth's blazer.

She paused and gave him a funny look. And then he realized, he knew where her bedroom was. He'd been to her house before, he'd been in her bed before. It had been quite sometime and in much different circumstances, but the location hadn't changed.

Without further conversation, he pulled her back into a passionate kiss and began to lead her stumbling up the stairs. They arrived in her bedroom before they knew it. Ruth nudged him down onto the bed so he was seated before her. Her blazer was half undone and her hair was mussed. She smiled at him as he watched her kick off her shoes remove her top and hike up her skirt so she could straddle his lap. His hands found purchase on the generous swell of her bum, guiding her as she began grinding herself on him. Oh Christ, he was so hard already. Her face was buried in the crook of his neck, teeth and tongue darting out against the skin of his throat. Harry let his head fall back as he appreciated her efforts.

"I've wanted to do that all night," she told him breathlessly.

Harry grinned, amazed and thrilled that she seemed to delight in him as he delighted in her. "I've wanted you all night," he replied, finding his way back to the soft column of her own neck. She gasped as his teeth grazed over her. She tasted incredible. Though as much as he wanted to suck hard on her pale skin and leave marks all over her, he knew better. However this night went, they'd have to go to work in the morning, and it would do for Ruth to show up covered in lovebites she'd have to try to hide or explain. Though perhaps somewhere less visible…

He wasn't nearly young and strong enough to pick her up himself, to his regret. Harry had to ask her to climb off him. "Take your clothes off," he commanded, trying to catch his breath and his control a little bit after the way she'd been rubbing up on his lap.

She stood up and did as she was told, unzipping her skirt and letting it pool at her feet, pulling her camisole over her head and tossing it aside. She was left in only her bra and stockings and knickers, and this was where Harry wanted to participate. He stood and put his hands on her hips, guiding her to where he'd just been sitting on the edge of the bed. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her stockings and peeled them down her legs, revealing the gorgeous flesh beneath. Her thighs were a thing of sheer beauty, and Harry wanted to bury himself between them, to have those thighs wrapped around him as soon as possible.

Harry paused, admiring her hungrily for a moment. "You are so beautiful," he murmured.

Ruth blushed and averted her gaze. Harry didn't quite like that she did that, didn't find pride in his compliments, but perhaps in time his worship of her might sink in.

But in Harry's moment of hesitation and pondering, Ruth stood back up and began unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it from where it was tucked in to his trousers. As she pushed it off his shoulders, her soft hands began to explore his chest, causing his eyes to flutter closed at the pleasure of her eager touch. Lower and lower, over his belly and down to the buckle of his belt. Before he knew it, she'd pushed his trousers and trunks down to his knees. His eyes snapped open to watch her delicate hand curl around his hard cock, stroking him gently.

"Bloody hell, Ruth," he breathed.

"Come to bed, Harry," she replied, leaning in to kiss him and wrapping her arms around him so his erection was caught between them, pressed against her abdomen.

She let go of him so she could go pull down the bedsheets. Before getting underneath them, she unhooked her bra and pushed her knickers down to the floor. Harry was blessed with the view of her back as she bent over to finish undressing herself. With a groan of want, he quickly got rid of his own clothes and hurried to join her.

The sheets were cold but soft. But Harry knew they'd warm up in no time. He settled himself on top of her, propped up by his elbows, kissing her deeply. Her hands tangled in his hair and he could feel her body moving beneath him, arching out for more contact. Harry progressed down her body, his tongue tracing those elegant lines of her neck again before discovering the perfection of her pert breasts. He took one in the palm of his hand, squeezing and rubbing it as his tongue and lips teased the other. He discovered what made her moan with pleasure, continuing on and on as she gasped his name. His mouth moved to her other side and he let his hand skim over the curve of her waist and stomach. Ruth parted her legs to let his hand explore her.

When he discovered that she was already quite wet, he groaned in desire and sucked a bit too hard on her breast. That was sure to leave a mark, but Ruth seemed to enjoy it. Her fingernails were digging into his scalp, keeping him anchored exactly where he was. His fingers traced her slick folds, finding the places that made her cant her hips for him.

Ruth was panting and gyrating, grinding herself against his hand. He could feel her throbbing for him, so close already. She came shockingly quickly, her body shuddering beneath him as she moaned, "Oh god, Harry, yes!" He had ripped himself away from her breast so he could watch her face, see the ecstasy etched over her lovely features. And in that moment, Harry had to bite his tongue from admitting out loud that he loved her, from promising that he'd bring her as much pleasure as he could manage, as often as she'd let him.

But now was time for more. So much more. They were only getting started. Harry kissed her lips once, softly, before pushing the sheets down even further, revealing her body as she came down from her high.

Harry settled between her thighs, just as he'd wanted, rubbing that beautiful, supple skin and spreading her legs even further. He kissed a gentle line from her navel down to her sex. She was hot and wet and so very sensitive from before. It took everything in him to be gentle, to not overwhelm her senses too much. But as his tongue and lips teased her, as he tasted her delicious, erotic flavor, Harry couldn't hold back. Ruth was bucking her hips against his face, urging him on. She was keening with high-pitched gasps of want. And by the time she shattered again, she nearly screamed his name with her hoarse voice. Never in all his life had Harry Pearce experienced anything better than this, than bringing Ruth to climax and feeling hercome apart.

By now, however, his own arousal was bordering on the point of pain. He wanted her so badly. Needed her. Could not wait another moment. But he was thankfully able to remember his good sense in the heat of the moment. "Ruth, I didn't bring any…"

She blinked back to consciousness as he hovered above her. "It's alright. I'm…"

Harry nodded. They didn't need any more words than that. He lined himself up at her entrance as she bent her knees to give him a better angle.

As he gave a few shallow thrusts, allowing her body to adjust to him, Ruth's breath was hot on his neck. "Please, Harry," she begged. "You feel so good." He pushed in hard till he was fully sheathed inside her. Ruth didn't waste a moment wrapping her gorgeous thighs around his hips, urging him in as deep as possible.

He set a steady pace, not wanting to come too soon, though that would be more difficult than expected the way Ruth moved to meet his every thrust. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, holding on as he pounded into her. He breathed her name over and over, a supplication for this gift of being with her, for his love of her. Harry could feel her fluttering around him and finally clenching and pulsating around his cock. She arched her whole body as she came again, gasping for air. He tumbled over the edge right with her, emptying himself inside her with a few more quick thrusts.

Harry collapsed on top of her, letting her hands stroke his sweaty hair and slick back. His face was buried in her neck as he tried to get his racing heart under control. Her legs were still wrapped around him and he was going soft inside her, but Harry wanted to remain nestled right here as long as possible. And though he would not allow himself to say the words, not yet, his mind was filled with only one phrase, repeated over and over and over with the beating of his heart. _I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you_.

Eventually he did roll off of her. She turned to snuggle in his arms for a while, peppering his chest with kisses. "That was wonderful, Harry," she said, still somehow blushing despite the fact that they'd just had sex and they were both naked in her bed.

"Yes, it was," he agreed, holding her close.

But Ruth extricated herself from his embrace. "I've got to feed the cats. Will you stay?" she asked shyly.

"I'd like that," Harry replied. He had the most serene smile on his face as he watch her wrap herself up in his discarded blue shirt and make her way downstairs to the kitchen to take care of Fidget and Mopsy.

Harry got up and folded all the rest of their clothes before popping into the loo. He was back in her bed by the time she returned, taking off his shirt and draping it over the pile of his other things before turning out the light and joining him. They cuddled under the covers, trading lazy kisses until they both fell asleep.

The alarm woke them far too early the next morning. Harry hated to get up, but he knew he had to. "I've got to go, Ruth," he whispered, kissing her sleepy face. "I have to shower and change my clothes before I can go in. And my driver will be rather worried if I'm not at my house when he arrives."

She grumbled unhappily, making him chuckle.

"We had our white burgundy, and now it's time to go back to thermobaric bombs," he said softly.

Ruth sighed, "Quite the species."

"Would you like to have dinner again sometime?" he asked, brushing her hair from her face.

She finally opened her eyes and smiled teasingly. "I'll think about it."

He grinned and gave her one last kiss. "I'll see you later."

As he donned his clothes, he saw Ruth sit up, still gloriously naked, watching him dress and leave her with an expression of soft affection on her face.


	23. Chapter 23

"So you spent the night together?"

Harry was interrupted from his very fond memories of that first time with Ruth. "Erm…yes, we did."

"Why was that important? You spent the night together before, you said."

He saw Ruth's eyes go wide and then narrow quite suddenly, warning him about his response. Harry was very aware that he needed to be delicate about all of this, knowing he'd have a very angry mother on his hands if the little girl listening to his story started asking questions about sex. He cleared his throat awkwardly and replied, "Well, this was after our first date. And it was a very good date. And it can be very nice to spend the night together when two people are in love."

"Oh." She turned to Ruth and asked, "Were you in love?"

Ruth smiled. "I was very much in love. And it was a very good first date. But even though it was a good date and I had a very good time and I was so very much in love, I got really scared."

"But why should you be scared?"

"You have to understand," Ruth explained, "that this was a very big step for us. We'd spent some time together before, we'd grown extremely close. I had been in love for quite some time before that dinner, but going out on a date made it so different. It scared me to death."

"But why?" the little girl insisted.

"Yes, why?" Harry asked, also being curious about the answer. He realized that they'd sort of let it lie, the way she'd treated him at dinner, the way she'd run from him.

"I think the easy answer is that it wasn't a dinner date with just anyone. You were Harry. Harry my boss and Harry my friend and Harry my...something more. But still Harry. And that was the best and worst part of all of it," she told him. "You looked so good that night. I remember like it was yesterday. Gosh, the nights I spent dreaming about you as you looked that night, Harry, I can't even tell you. With your gentle voice and your easy smile. No tie, open collar. Absolutely gorgeous." She smirked slightly, obviously remembering as he did the way she'd nestled her face in the crook of his neck.

"And you looked rather gorgeous yourself," Harry replied softly.

Ruth rolled her eyes. "I cannot believe I didn't wear something nicer. I actually threw out that brown blazer the next day. I didn't want to be reminded of it. And it was hideous. I was just so nervous getting dressed before you came to pick me up, I think I tried on every single outfit I owned. Nothing was right. And then you rang the doorbell and that's what I had on, so I had to stick with that. It was awful!"

"Well, you do have prettier things," he agreed, "but given how well that evening went, I have rather fond memories of that brown blazer."

An affectionate silence passed between them as Harry smiled at Ruth and she smiled back at him, thinking rather loudly. "That was the first time I think I knew," she realized aloud.

"First time you knew what?"

"The first time I knew that you loved me," she admitted. "Oh I knew that you appreciated my friendship, that you were somehow attracted to me, but that sort of deeper feeling of actually wanting me in your life as more than we were, of imagining a future for us together. That's the first time I knew you felt that way."

Harry nodded, also knowing that was the first time he'd properly conveyed such feelings to her. "What gave it away?"

"When you spoke of your perfect travel companion. The way you looked at me as you described a person with what might generously be seen as my qualities."

"Those are very much your qualities, Ruth, and they are the qualities that made me fall in love with you."

Despite the years they'd spent together, Ruth actually blushed at Harry's compliment. She continued, "And you said it so directly and out in public and not in the midst of me being afraid or crying or you being injured or anything. That's how I knew it was real."

"It was real. I was so very in love with you, Ruth, and I wanted so much for us to make a real go of it."

A pained expression crossed her face. "I know, Harry." She sighed, "I suppose you'd better continue with the story."

"Anything else you want to add?" he asked her.

"Only…only, I suppose, that despite my protestations, I was very naïve. I thought we could stay in our happy bubble, just the two of us, and when the bubble got popped, I took the coward's way out, and I regret it every day."

"No regrets, Ruth," Harry chided. "It all worked out in the end. And we know better than most that sometimes the best things come after a bit of heartache."

Ruth nodded in agreement. Harry gathered his thoughts to tell what happened next, the morning after their perfect first evening, when Ruth broke both their hearts.


	24. Chapter 24

_Summer 2006_

Harry sent Adam to work with Ros to back up Jo with their illustrious arms dealer on her undercover date that evening. He settled himself back at his desk to return to work. As was habit, he looked out the window to see what Ruth was up to. He liked to watch her, check on her throughout the day. The sight of her hard at work, chatting with her colleagues, smiling—if he was lucky—all grounded him somehow. And now, especially.

It was all he could do to keep from humming and grinning like an idiot. To think that he'd woken up in Ruth's bed after having made love to her the night before. It was glorious and beautiful and absolutely perfect. Christ, he loved her. He couldn't wait to see her again, outside the Grid. Once this operation was over, he'd make sure they found the time. Their work kept them at odd hours, so planning another dinner or another night to spend with her would be rather up in the air. But he'd surely find a way.

Just now, however, his view of her was slightly blocked. Malcolm was standing in front of her station, leaning over and speaking to her. Harry could only see about half of her face, and he was unable to tell what Malcolm was talking about. Based on Ruth's reaction, it didn't seem work-related. She gave a look of amused confusion. Harry reveled in that look, just a bit. For when was Ruth ever properly confused? But then her beautiful eyes widened and her lips parted in…fear? Panic? She said something to Malcolm that Harry couldn't discern. Malcolm left and Ruth put her head down, going back to her work. She looked upset. And perhaps if Harry's phone hadn't rung at that exact moment, he might have asked her to join him on the roof and tell him what was wrong.

As was so often the case, the job consumed everyone without leaving room to breathe. Jo was nearly raped and murdered, Ros and Adam rescuing her just in time. Harry had an emergency meeting at Whitehall first thing in the morning, requiring him to go home for a shower, shave, and change of clothes. He was the only one of the team that had gotten to leave. Adam and Ros returned to their work turning Michael with Zaf undercover with the AQ cell. The bomb had been delivered, Michael's girlfriend, Leigh, was killed, and someone had a remote detonator to set off the bomb in the back of the van Zaf and Michael were driving.

In the end, thank god, it all worked out. His team was nearly dead on their feet; no one had slept, Malcolm and Ruth hadn't even stepped foot outside in nearly twelve hours. But it was late afternoon by the time Harry debriefed with Adam and Ros.

Then, just as he was able to let his mind relax enough to think about personal things, the very object of his personal musings blustered into his office. He wanted to tell her to draw the blinds so he could snog her silly, so grateful was he that the crisis was averted and they could now return back to their burgeoning romance.

Ruth ducked her head as Adam and Ros walked past her. She was wringing her hands as she approached Harry. "Ah, the Americans want to talk to you about the bomb."

"They're not getting it back," Harry insisted sharply, drawn back momentarily into work-related things.

"Grosvenor Square's on a secure line," she informed him, turning to leave.

But she couldn't leave, not now that they finally had a moment to themselves for the first time since waking up in bed together the day before. Neither of them had even been back to bed since. And Harry, for one, didn't much fancy the thought of doing so without her. "Ruth," he called, causing her to turn back to him. "Have you thought anymore about…"

"I can't," she answered abruptly.

Harry frowned. He'd hoped to tease her, flirt a bit, remind her that he'd asked her to dinner again when they were still warm from waking up in bed together. She'd been coy, saying she'd think about it. But the smile on her face had told him that the answer would be yes. And why wouldn't it? They'd had thoroughly incredible sex, spent the night together naked in each other's arms. "Can't what?" he asked, hoping that perhaps they'd gotten their signals crossed, that she wasn't talking about dinner.

"Have dinner again."

Or perhaps she was. What had changed in the last day to make her now say that she couldn't have dinner with him again?

"People know," she continued, looking down at her shoes and fidgeting her hands again. "They're laughing about it."

"Laughing? Wh-why would they laugh?" Harry asked incredulously, turning to sit on the edge of his desk, beyond perplexed about this ridiculous turn of events.

"I don't know. But it undermines you, and that's not acceptable." The words were tumbling out of Ruth's mouth in a manner that felt, to Harry's mind, rehearsed. Like she'd been trying to repeat these words so much in order to convince herself of their truth and efficacy.

Harry replied in a quiet but firm tone, "I sit in meetings listening to briefings that would chill the blood of any ordinary citizen. So whilst of course deeply hurtful, somebody laughing at me is not going to give me sleepless nights." He had leaned closer to her as he tried to explain. His face was just level with hers. Almost close enough that, if she wanted to, she could take a half step forward and he could kiss her the way he desperately wanted to, the way he yearned to press his lips to hers and eliminate that frown from her lovely face.

"I can't, Harry," she insisted.

He leaned back, giving her the space she clearly needed. But he unfortunately lacked the self-control, in that moment, to school his features. Harry could feel the expression on his face, perfectly matching the pain he felt bubbling inside him.

Ruth took a deep breath, her gaze darting from her feet to his face, as though she couldn't bear to even look at him to too long. "I can't be talked about like that. I just…I can't stand it. Sorry."

And with that, she turned and walked out of his office. Harry was left sitting on the end of his desk, watching her walk away from him. He could feel the tightness of the vice grip of sadness clenching his whole body. Harry was rather sure that if he were a different sort of person, or even if he was anywhere other than in his office, that he would have begun to cry. He felt the lump in his throat threaten tears in his eyes. He averted his gaze from the door to the carpet and sniffed back the perilous emotion.

Somehow, amidst the patience he'd exhibited and hazardous hope he'd clung to where Ruth was concerned, he had made some grave error. Had he pushed too far? She had seemed very much to be on the same page as he after their date. Had she regretted letting him bed her? She certainly seemed to have enjoyed herself. Had a bit of gossip really scared her off?

That was it. She'd said as much, but Harry didn't want to believe it. But of course that was it. Ruth had always been a bit awkward in the group, struggled to seem relaxed amongst her peers. It was, in all probability, an anxiety she'd carried with her most of her life. Ruth was like a timid deer, effusive in the proper performance of her job, going above and beyond to prove her value, but shy and painfully cautious in nearly everything else. Everything had been going so well between them, as they kept to the shadows and took comfort in each other in private. But now that they had gone public—by literally being together on a date in public—people knew of their intentions toward each other. And whether or not people were laughing, the scrutiny of others was more painful to Ruth than anything else.

Harry didn't care if people laughed. Let them laugh. Let them laugh at an over-the-hill grumpy spook whose hard exterior had utterly melted for a lovely woman who was far too young for him and far too intelligent to get mixed up with the likes of him. People in Harry's own circle might laugh, seeing him get bowled over by a young woman who didn't have the blatant sex appeal that the kind of woman a man in his position might be expected to pursue. People on the Grid might laugh to think that Ruth could somehow be interested with an old man like Harry, losing more hair and gaining more weight every day.

But hadn't they proven their worth to each other, even if not to those looking on? Hadn't Harry placed his trust in Ruth above all others, allowing her to see his vulnerabilities and the truth of his heart? Hadn't Ruth allowed Harry to be the one who kissed her and held her tight when she was afraid? Hadn't Harry made her come three times in one evening of lovemaking? Was all of that not enough for her?

Thankfully, the phone rang. Harry gave himself a bit of a shake and sat in his chair, answering the Home Secretary's call. Back to work. More important things to worry about than a broken heart.


	25. Chapter 25

_Summer 2006_

In the ten days since Ruth crushed Harry's very heart and soul, work had thankfully taken most of his attention. Section D had been tasked with overseeing the Addressing Africa Summit at the Havensworth Hotel. Harry had been spending hours and hours with the Foreign Secretary. Malcolm was working on the surveillance, rolling out his magnificent Diaspora program which would track the location and the calls on every mobile phone at the summit. Adam and Ros and Zaf would be undercover at the event; Ros and Zaf were installed at the hotel a few days early while Adam and Harry himself were working closely with the politicians. Ruth and Jo were working on prepping the African presidents, writing speeches and doing background research for everything they'd need in order to get the agreement signed.

Harry remained distracted until the day he arrived up in Berkshire with Adam. "Everyone ready?"

"Yep. Ros is playing happy hostess, Zaf is getting in with the waitstaff," Adam informed him.

"And Ruth?"

"Ruth's on the Grid with Jo and Malcolm."

Harry frowned. "She should be here. We'll need someone monitoring from the hotel."

"I thought so, too, but Ruth requested to stay back."

"Overrule her," Harry ordered.

Adam got on the phone and called back to Thames House to get Ruth up to the hotel as soon as possible.

Harry told himself that they truly did need her there. And of course they did. Everything always went better when Ruth was closely involved. But with all this Havensworth business, Harry had a feeling that they'd perhaps have a moment away from work, away from the stress of the Grid, to talk. She'd barely given him a reason why she couldn't see him and now she was avoiding him. She'd asked not to go to Havensworth. Perhaps it was a bit of a powerplay and manipulation to order her to come on this operation, but Harry was in a certain position that allowed him to put circumstances in his own favor.

The summit had just begun when Malcolm informed Harry that Ruth was entering the hotel. He walked out to greet her. She was laden down with bags and practically strangling herself in her own scarf.

"Hello," he greeted, trying as best he could to be gentle and warm, hoping to see her smile at him if he were lucky. "I'm glad you're here. We'll need your organizational skills on this operation." Harry reached into his pocket to pull out the security badge for her. "I've got your pass."

She looked a bit harried. Obviously displeased by the inconvenience of having to travel all that way. She was avoiding eye contact as she took the badge from him. No luck of a smile. "Ah, do I need to organize a room?"

"No, it's all arranged," he informed her. "Your room."

The way Ruth looked up at him in that moment, with a distant sparkle of affection mixed with utter terror was not one he particularly appreciated. Made him feel as though yes, she did recall sharing her room with him once and wasn't particularly keen to repeat it.

"It's your own room," Harry clarified, soldiering on as unaffected as he could manage as his stomach twisted in knots being so physically close to her.

Ruth averted her gaze again. "Of course. Right."

Harry's mobile started ringing, so he fished it out of his pocket, trying to suppress the feeling of desperation he felt at the grief over their awkward interaction. He and Ruth hadn't ever been like this. It had never been this difficult, they'd never had this barrier of horrible tension between them, not like this. "I've got to take this," he said, seeing who the caller was. Not a conversation he was looking forward to. "Do you want to…"

"Sure." Ruth nodded and made her way to her room to set up, and Harry walked in the opposite direction to see what fresh hell awaited him on this call from the DG.

Of course, it was worse than he'd imagined. Harry immediately got off the phone and sent a message for Adam to meet him on the grounds where they could speak privately. They had far too much to be concerned with at this summit, between the international implications and Harry's own muddied feelings that he'd foolishly brought to the surface by insisting Ruth join them at the hotel. That conversation in the lobby was the first time they'd spoken without other present in ten days. Harry was rudely reminded of that fact as he walked outside to meet Adam. He needed to confide in his Section Chief about this, if nothing else. One less burden for him to carry alone.

"Adam, I've just had a call with the DG about Ros's father," Harry said, seeing Adam waiting under a large tree by the river. "My request for leniency's been turned down. They've decided to make an example of him."

"How many?" Adam asked, cutting to the chase.

"Twenty. Minimum," Harry replied regretfully.

"He'll be over eighty when he gets out. She'll be devastated.

"Keep it to yourself," Harry advised. "We need her focused on this operation."

Adam's mobile rang, interrupting them. Back to work. Harry followed behind as they both headed back to the hotel. Adam had matters well in hand, and he'd brief Harry after giving his orders. Harry, on the other hand, was already regretting telling Adam about the fate of Sir Jocelyn Myers. It wasn't something Adam needed to know, particularly if they both had to keep it from Ros for the duration of the operation. Obviously Harry knew he'd made the right decision keeping it from her, but perhaps he should have kept it to himself.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry heard Ruth's voice of reason, that unfailing moral compass, say, "All you've done is gossip, and that solves nothing." Perhaps that wasn't what Ruth would have said. He had thought he'd known her rather well, up until ten days ago. But now he wasn't so sure. He wanted to seek her counsel on this and all things, knowing that her clever mind would hone in on the precise piece that was missing, cut directly to the heart of the issue. He couldn't go running to her, of course, as much as he might have wanted to. They all had a job to do, and they'd bloody do it.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note: M-rating for this chapter**

 _Summer 2006_

Harry had been trying to get ready for bed, to shed his suit and with it shed the stress of the day. There were few things more loathsome to Harry than babysitting petulant politicians. But to get the Havensworth Agreement signed would bolster African economies, and with better economies came better governments, and with better governments came stronger international defenses from terrorism that threatened their shores. And so here he was, devoting his team's efforts to the summit.

There was an awful pounding from some hideously loud music playing down the hall. After the exhausting and stressful day he'd had, Harry needed to get a few hours of rest which would be precluded by the hammering baseline. Without further thought, Harry left his room to bang on a door in protest.

As he made his way down the hall to where the noise was coming from, he saw Ruth leave her room. Their eyes met across the corridor. Harry felt like a magnet was pulling him toward her. She herself took another step or two in his direction.

"The music woke me," she explained, gesturing awkwardly to the door behind her from whence the music emanated. "Never really gone in for Europop."

"Looks like you weren't sleeping at all," Harry replied in a low tone. "Nor was I." They were only two paces apart now. She looked unspeakably lovely, her hair and her skin soft and a bit tired, her loose patterned blouse and flowing skirt gently covering her lush body. A body Harry had seen and touched and worshipped and missed so much he wanted to weep.

"It's the Italian trade minister," Ruth informed him, still somehow talking about the music, despite her entire face betraying her feelings of devotion and panic bubbling inside her in equal measure. "He's apparently a bit of a party animal. Caused a scandal at an EU conference last year dancing to the macarena at the last night banquet."

Harry approached her slowly. She didn't turn away. She let him walk right up to her. If only she'd let him hold her, let him kiss away that fear the way he used to. But always before, that fear had been of things outside, things that threatened her from which he could protect her. She used to turn to him to soothe her worries; now he had become the cause of them. Harry would have given anything in that moment to just talk to her away from spooks and artifice and intrigue, just sit and talk and figure it out together the way they used to do with everything else. He wanted her. He needed her. Oh Christ, he loved her so much he could barely breathe with the pain of it.

She searched his face for a moment, likely seeing the bald display of emotion he didn't want to hide from her. Her eyes roved over his neck and chest, exposed by the three buttons undone on his shirt. But then she averted her eyes, as usual, and turned away. "I'll get the management to ask him to turn it down."

"Ruth," he began, begging her not to go.

"Goodnight, Harry," she replied firmly as she went back into her hotel room.

Harry sighed and remained in the hallway, staring after where Ruth had run away from him. He felt almost as though she'd rejected him again. It wasn't as pointed this time, but his raw nerves made him more vulnerable now. His whole body ached with want of her. To hold her and kiss her and make love to her and just be near to her when she smiled. Oh, if only he could make her smile.

Defeated, Harry trudged back to his own room. Alone. He could sleep for a while and escape the hopelessness in his heart, this sinking feeling that he would never again feel as whole or as happy as he had when he was with Ruth.

Not a moment later, as soft knock sounded against his door. He'd only managed to kick off his shoes and undo one more button from his shirt. With a groan of annoyance, Harry went to see who was there.

To his eternal shock and delight, it was Ruth. He opened the door immediately. He had no words. He merely gaped at her as she walked into the room, and he closed the door behind her.

"I was hoping we could…talk," she began, worrying the hem of her blouse between her nervous fingers.

"Talking would be good," he agreed.

Ruth took a seat on the edge of the bed, her hands still fidgeting and her eyes darting from him to the floor and everywhere else. Harry moved slowly, as though any sudden movement would send her bolting away again. He sat down beside her. Near enough that he could reach out and touch her but not so close that he might frighten her off.

She turned to face him, shifting her body so one knee was bent and resting on the bed and the other remained on the floor. A small flutter of hope rose up in Harry's heart.

"I left my phone in my room," she blurted out. "I mean, I didn't think it would be too terrible. I just didn't want Malcolm or anyone to…to know I was here with you."

Harry was reminded of when he'd been suspended, when she had snuck though his back garden to visit him at home because seeing him on the bus had made her miss him. Perhaps their meagre interaction in the corridor had inspired the same in her.

Ruth continued on, "It's just utterly mad, really. I can't quite wrap my head around it. And you can imagine how much that upsets me. It's all so…I don't know, there's just quite a lot to unpick," she rambled.

Harry spoke softly. "Like what, Ruth? Tell me what there is to unpick, and we can work through it together. Just like with any other problem, just like we always do," he offered. This, after all, was just what he'd hoped would happen. He just needed her to tell him what was wrong so he could fix it. He so desperately wanted to fix it.

Ruth was regarding him with a very analytical scrutiny. Her gaze took in his whole face, every part, and down his neck and chest and belly and to his lap. "You're not an unappealing man, but you're certainly no male model. You look your age. The lines on your face. The padding 'round your middle. The sparseness of your hair. Properly middle aged," she proclaimed.

"Hmm, thanks," he grunted, not at all pleased at that assessment, accurate as it may have been. Good lord, was that what this was all about? She wasn't attracted to him? What was the sex, just pity?

"But I find you utterly beautiful," she said, ignoring his response. "I have to stop myself every moment I'm near you from just reaching out to touch you, to fold myself in your arms and to trace every single line and scar on your body and just feel you, every part of you."

"You do?"

Again, she ignored him. "And that horribly annoying thing you do, being grumpy and sarcastic, making stupid jokes at inappropriate times? Why on earth do I always smile? It's awful!"

"I like to lighten the mood. I like to make you smile," he explained, wholly unsure of where this rant of hers was going.

"It just makes no sense!" she huffed.

"What, that I like to make you smile?"

"Harry, it makes absolutely no sense that I am madly in love with you!"

In that moment, Harry was rather certain he'd suffered a massive stroke and died right there. The shock of her declaration, seemingly from nowhere, was quite possibly more than he could bear. "You…you are?"

Ruth just barreled straight through, as though her words had not just turned his entire world upside down and inside out. "I thought it was just some stupid infatuation at first, due to my attraction to strength and authority. But we got to know each other and we got so very close and all those feelings never went away. Quite the opposite, actually. I am absolutely in love with you and I just can't quite figure it out."

"I think it's worth exploring, don't you?" Harry asked, managing to get a word in edgewise.

Looking up from her wringing hands, she asked, "Explore how?"

"Oh now you listen to me," he replied sarcastically, just managing to resist rolling his eyes.

She paused and told him in a rather serious tone, "I always listen to you, Harry."

They watched each other quietly for a moment, loathe to break the sparkling stillness between them. This magic moment, when she finally regarded him with affection once more, affection he now knew to be love. "What would you like to do with this situation, Ruth?" Harry finally asked her. "Seeing as you're madly in love with me and I am hopelessly in love with you?"

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Are you really? You shouldn't just say it because I did. Not if you don't mean it."

"Of course I mean it. I'd have thought that was obvious. Some spook I am, can't even hide my feelings for you," he grumbled.

"You've done a rather good job of it so far."

"I dare say you're the only one who hasn't noticed. I'm unfortunately not very subtle, staring at you from my office and standing far too close to you at every opportunity."

"I suppose that makes us quite the pair."

"I'd like to think so, yes."

She sighed. "I really had no idea."

"Ruth, I hope you don't think I'm the sort to ask out just anyone. What did you think that dinner was? And…and after?"

"The sex?"

"Yes, Ruth, the sex."

"I just…I don't know, Harry, you've not got the best track record with things like this. That night was the best of my life, but after people started talking about us, what Malcolm said…"

"Malcolm?!"

"He wanted to wish us well. But I panicked. I just thought that they'd all see what I didn't want to admit, that I was just a convenient bit of skirt with a crush on her boss."

"Ruth, I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you are nothing close to convenient."

A small smile appeared on her face.

"Oh, there it is," he breathed in awe.

"What?"

"Your smile. I've missed it." Harry couldn't resist reaching out to cup her cheek in his hand, brushing his thumb over those perfect smiling lips.

"Are you saying I should smile more?" Her eyes flashed dangerously.

He chose his words carefully. "I'm saying you're very beautiful and you have a smile that makes me very happy, and I would like to try to make you smile as often as I can."

The smile returned and she nuzzled against his touch. "I love you, Harry," she told him, turning her face to kiss the palm of his hand.

"And I love you, Ruth," he told her in return. The sinking feeling of hopelessness in his chest had been replaced with a soaring warmth of joy he had never before felt.

Ruth leaned in, taking his face in her own hands to kiss him. Harry wasted no time pulling her into his arms and onto the bed. They lay side by side somewhat oddly, their legs hanging over the edge as their kiss deepened and their hands explored skin underneath clothes.

Rather abruptly, Ruth pulled away from him. She stood up and pulled her blouse up over her head and pulled her skirt down to pool at her ankles. Harry leaned on his elbows, watching her undress, feeling his happy heart thundering with erotic anticipation. One of these days, Harry wanted to undress her himself, but for now, Ruth seemed to have a plan in mind, and Harry would follow her lead.

She was entirely naked when she came to where he sat and unbuckled his belt. She pulled his shirttails from his trousers and undid all the buttons, leaving him to take the shirt off while she yanked his trousers and trunks off his legs. And when they were both bare, Ruth came to stand in front of Harry, giving his shoulders a small shove. He lay back in the middle of the bed and Ruth crawled over to join him. He watched her in amazement, this bold Ruth he had never quite seen. She straddled his hips, leaning over his chest to cover him in wet open-mouthed kisses.

They'd barely even got started, but Harry was overcome with his need for her. "Ruth," he growled, pulling her face up to his so he could kiss her properly, their tongues surging together as they swallowed each other's moans of arousal. Harry could feel her hot and wet on his lap. His hands wandered her breasts, squeezing and massaging her in the precise way that made her moan even louder and grind her hips against him.

Ruth pulled away from his kiss, panting. "Please, Harry," she begged. "I need you." She raised herself up on her knees and, Harry took his hard cock in hand to line himself up at her entrance. He teased her with his tip, spreading her wetness until she sank down on him. The gasp that escaped her lips when he was fully sheathed deep inside her nearly made him come on the spot. Ruth took her time, savoring their union. But Harry was getting impatient. He pushed himself up so they were sitting face to face, his feet planted on the bed behind her with his knees bent. He wrapped his arms around her waist. Ruth used her knees as leverage and began moving herself up and down. Harry met her rhythm. Every movement between them seemed to coax him deeper inside her. All he could do was rock back and forth, holding her tight.

In that moment, Harry was certain that he'd never been so close to another human being in all his life, physically and emotionally and romantically and every which way two people could be together. The beating of their hearts thundered like the drumbeats of destiny. Their panting breaths and the sheen of perspiration that coated them both had turned the air thick with intimacy. And somewhere in the haze of lustful pleasure clouding his mind, Harry somehow felt as though their bodies curled around each other had intertwined their very souls, ensuring that this moment would bind them inextricably together.

Ruth's movements had turned quicker, more erratic. She fluttered and clenched around him as her orgasm pulsated through her whole body. She gasped at the overwhelming pleasure, but did not stop moving. Not until Harry followed her over the precipice, groaning with bone-deep satisfaction at spilling inside, did they slow and still.

Harry could no longer remain upright. He kept Ruth enveloped in his embrace and tilted their joined bodies to the side so they could lay together. Her face was buried in his neck, his buried in her hair. And unlike their first time in bed together, when Harry had kept his inner mantra inside his mind, he breathed against her, "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you."

He felt Ruth tighten her hold on him and nuzzle closer at his words.

Eventually their heartrates and breathing returned to normal. Harry was soft inside her, and his arm was falling asleep from her weight lying on it. As much as he despised the necessity of it, Harry pulled himself away from her, separating their bodies.

They readjusted their positions so they could cuddle together more comfortably. Harry sighed as he held her once more. "Christ, Ruth, don't ever leave me again. I don't think I could bear it."

"I won't," she assured him. "I don't think I ever could. But don't you ever let me go."

A memory popped into his mind. "I promised you that before. We were lying in bed."

Ruth nodded, remembering as well. "The day Danny died. I was so upset, and I made you promise to never let me go, and you did."

"And I mean to keep that promise. I will never let you go, Ruth. I love you far too much."

"And I love you. But unfortunately, I have to get back to my room." She pulled herself out of his arms and got up from the bed.

Harry rolled over to watch her get some tissues from the nightstand to clean herself up and then gather her clothes. "Must you?"

"I left my mobile," she reminded him. And we have a complicated day ahead of us. We need to sleep, and unfortunately, we need to be in separate rooms."

"You're right," he agreed begrudgingly. "But perhaps when we can escape Diaspora…"

She turned back to him with an adoring smile. "Yes. When we're back home. We can…we can make this work."

"I'd like that."

"Me too."

Ruth disappeared into the loo for a moment. When she returned, she was dressed again. Harry had put his trunks back on and was sitting back on the edge of the bed, where they'd started.

"I'll see you in the morning, Harry," she said, giving him one last kiss and whispering, "Sweet dreams, my love."

She hurried out of his room and back to hers. Harry just sat there, unsure if perhaps this was all just a very sweet, beautiful dream. This night would surely be his fondest dream for the rest of his days.


	27. Chapter 27

Ruth got up and crossed over to Harry, taking his face in her hands and kissing him soundly. She went back to where she sat on the sofa, smiling and blushing.

"I must have done a very good job telling that part of the story," he said, smiling to the little girl watching them with rapt attention.

"You did a very good job but honestly, Harry, that was one of the most wonderful, terrible nights of my entire life and I don't think about it as often as I should."

Harry's face fell. "Terrible? Why was it terrible?"

She explained, "I was just so sure that I had ruined it all. That I was too scared to be happy and I'd missed my chance. I still don't quite know how you could be so patient through my stupidity."

"You were never stupid. I may not have understood, I may have been extremely hurt, but I never thought you stupid."

"Cowardly, then," she amended.

"Perhaps in my moments of heartbreak when I was feeling rather uncharitable, that may have been a thought I'd had."

"I was a coward," Ruth insisted. "And you somehow loved me anyway."

"I loved you then and I love you now. But you weren't a coward that night, Ruth, when you came to my room at Havensworth so we could talk."

"I saw that look on your face." Ruth was blushing slightly again. In their present company, she wouldn't describe it for what it was: undisguised lust.

Harry nodded. "I wanted you with all my heart and soul." And body, but he didn't add that.

"And I wanted you just as much. And I didn't want to keep feeling so sad or hurting you so much when I knew there was something we might be able to do about it."

"And we did," he said softly.

Ruth met his gaze and agreed just as softly, "Yes, we did."

"So that was it?" came their little interruption. "You said I love you and then you lived happily ever after?"

"We certainly did at Havensworth. As much as we could," Ruth said with a slight laugh. "Honestly, I don't know how we got any work done. Every moment I wasn't actively in the middle of something for the operation, I was mooning over you. Harry, did I ever tell you that I was watching you over the CCTV?"

"You did what?"

"You were sitting alone at the hotel bar. I was just watching you. We were both free for a moment, and I picked up the phone to call you and have you come up and spend some time with me, but I decided against it."

"Whatever for?"

"Well, we were in the middle of an operation, one that got more and more complicated while we were there. And we couldn't very well have a romantic moment amidst all that, particularly not in the middle of the day!" she pointed out.

Harry nodded. "Yes, you're probably right. And we had plenty of time together after that when we got home."

"When Ros got so upset at you over her father's prison term…"

"Oh Christ, I'd nearly forgotten about that," Harry groaned.

"She was wrong, saying such awful things to you. You did the right thing, keeping it from her until after the operation."

"So you said, I seem to recall."

"Yes. I just wanted to make sure you knew someone was on your side. That someone loved you."

Harry felt a warmth grow in his heart at that. After they'd gotten back from Havensworth and Ros gave Harry a rather loud dressing-down, Ruth had come to see him and said goodnight before she left. He'd brooded in his office for a bit before going home. But upon arriving home, he found Ruth waiting naked in his bed. She'd said, "I hope you don't mind, I let myself in. Scarlett's gone outside already, so we should all be ready to turn in and get some rest." Having the woman he loved naked in his bed certainly meant that there would be very little rest had, which had turned out to be true. They'd gone to work the next day utterly exhausted but transcendently happy.

"So then you got married, the end?"

"No, Penny," Harry said gently. "Real life, and especially my real life, is far more complicated that your story books. Just because two people are in love doesn't mean everything works out."

"So what happened next?"

"If you'll be patient, sweet girl, I can tell you what happened next."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Here ends strict adherence to canon. I will be using bits and pieces of things that happened in the next few seasons of the show, but this story now diverts from what we see on screen. Just fair warning for you all!**


	28. Chapter 28

_Late Summer 2006_

Harry woke early, as usual, and reached out to gently trace the line of Ruth's face, from the small crease between her brows, down her elegant nose and over the plump fullness of her parted lips. By the time his fingertip reached her chin, she had started to smile. Her eyes blinked open and she sighed as she woke.

"Why do you always wake me up that way?" she asked, her voice hoarse from sleep.

"Because when I wake up with you beside me, I can never quite believe that you're really real," he replied.

Ruth scoffed lightly, "Of course I'm real. Don't be silly. You needn't be so insecure, Harry. I'm not going anywhere." To punctuate her statement, Ruth rolled over to lie partially on top of him and kissed him soundly.

Harry held her in his arms, gazing at her in awe. "I think I might need a bit more time to get used to that idea."

"What, get used the idea that I'm real?"

"No. Get used to the idea that you're not going anywhere."

Ruth kissed him again, softer this time, but full of feeling. "I love you, Harry," she promised on his lips.

Harry just hummed and buried his face in her neck, breathing her into his soul. Ruth stayed where she was, smiling and lazily stroking the shell of his ear.

The alarm went off a moment later, prompting them to break apart so Harry could turn it off. He slumped back on his pillow with a groan. Ruth giggled lightly. "What's wrong, love?"

"I don't think ever in my life I've not wanted to go to work because I would have rather stayed at home. Plenty of times I haven't wanted to go in because I was dreading something or other. But I can't recall a single moment I've ever had something nicer right here to tempt me to stay."

"You will see me at work," she reminded him.

"Yes, but you'll be fully clothed there."

She laughed, "Yes, I very much will. And so will you."

"Pity. And besides, you won't let me kiss you at work anymore."

"Harry," she scolded warningly.

"I know, I know," he grumbled. Harry sat up and hauled himself out of bed. "I'll start on breakfast while you shower, yes?"

Ruth sat up, stretching her arms and running her fingernails over her scalp. "Yes, thank you. And I'll take Scarlett out before I go."

Harry smiled at her before putting on his dressing gown and going downstairs. This had become a rather nice routine for them. Two or three nights each week, Ruth would meet him at his house. They would have dinner—if it was early enough for such a thing—or just share a drink on the sofa before going upstairs to make love and fall asleep in each other's arms. This way, Harry wouldn't have to leave early to meet his driver. Ruth could obviously be trusted to lock up the house and set the security system before she caught the Tube to head to work herself. She was still adamant about keeping their relationship as private as possible. Harry's driver never saw Ruth, despite Harry's attempts to let him give her a ride. But Ruth was happy and sharing his bed. They were in love and everything was going well. Harry could not have asked for anything better. Well, perhaps he could. But after her nervousness and confusion and panic shattered his heart the night after their first date, he was extremely careful to not give her any reason to bolt again.

That very day, however, Harry was confronted with what possibly might be a very strong reason for Ruth to do a runner on him again. Zafar Younis, the cheeky sod he was, came into Harry's office with a form, something he'd done shockingly often. "Another?" Harry sighed.

"Yes, another. What can I say, Harry? I'm unlucky in love but still not giving up hope," Zaf replied with a grin.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I assume you've vetted this one already?"

"Spent about an hour doing some basic searches, all clear. Obviously processing the form, they'll do something more in-depth. But we know how it goes."

"Yes, we do," Harry grumbled. He signed the S24 for Zaf and told him he'd get it filed later that day. "And please don't give me another one of these for a while. These can come back to haunt you."

"Speaking from experience, Harry?" Zaf teased.

They both knew that the answer was a resounding 'yes,' but Harry just pursed his lips and waved Zaf off.

When his office was empty again, Harry took a moment to peruse Zaf's form to take a look at his latest romantic interest. Sage Clarke. Harry was alone so he did not bother to hide his scoff of disapproval. But it seemed Ms. Clarke was a banker and educated at Cambridge—another mark against her in Harry's book—so overall, she seemed a better candidate for a serious relationship than the last few Zaf had filled out an S24 for. Felicity Hardwick, Harry could recall, was a part-time waitress at a cocktail lounge and spent her days modeling for foot fetish websites. Zaf nearly got a punch in the mouth from Harry on that one. Still, the lad was young and gregarious and charming, and who he chose to spend his time with away from the Grid was not any of Harry's concern, so long as these women were all properly vetted.

And that was what Harry kept telling himself. The vetting. That was what mattered. It wasn't the bureaucracy or the oversight or whatever else that made a properly processed S24 important. It was the dire need to have anyone with whom a member of MI-5 socialized be properly vetted. Ruth was obviously fully vetted. There were no skeletons in her closet that the Service didn't already know about. Not anymore, now that her loyalty to GCHQ had been severed and both Peter Haig and Angela Wells were dead. There was nothing about Ruth that, security-wise, Harry didn't already know. No real need for the S24.

But even in his own head, Harry knew that was a lie. The form mattered. The propriety and transparency from his officers mattered. Tom Quinn made a mess of his personal life and the Grid by assuming he could handle things himself without Harry's interference. And Harry had no intention of every getting close to another Tom Quinn debacle.

Without another thought, Harry did what he knew needed to be done. The moment he finished, he called Ruth into his office.

"Yes, Harry?" she asked as she rushed in.

"Close the blinds, please."

She frowned. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Ruth, close the blinds," he commanded. Probably not the best idea to get her in a defensive mood from the get-go, but this needed to be dealt with, and she would likely see immediately why neither of them would not want an audience.

Reluctantly, Ruth did as she was told. Harry gestured for her to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk. "What's this about?" she asked warily.

Harry handed her a single sheet of paper. "I've taken the liberty of filling it out for you. All you have to do is review and sign it. I thought we could submit them together." As the words came out of his mouth, he became aware that it sounded like a pathetic attempt at something saccharine and romantic, but this was certainly nothing of the sort.

Ruth's eyes went flinty as she looked at the page in her hand. "This is an S24 Permission to Socialize form."

"Yes."

"About us."

"Yes."

"But…everyone will know."

"Only human resources, the analysts we use for the vetting, and the DG. Anyone else could know if they wanted to take a look at either of our personnel records. But it's not like an announcement goes out."

"But people talk. Especially about this. This will…" she trailed off as the panic began to rise in her face. "We can't, Harry. I can't."

"I'm afraid we don't have a choice, Ruth," Harry insisted. "I have been avoiding this since we got home from Havensworth, but we can't delay any further. If anyone does find out we're together and the wrong people learn about it, there could be serious consequences."

She shook her head, not wanting to hear it. "No, if people know, we can't…I don't know how to…" Ruth stammered for a moment before taking a deep breath and closing her eyes and finally finding the words. "If people find out, everything will be ruined."

"Why?" he pressed.

"I don't want people to think less of me," she confessed in a small voice, her eyes fixed firmly on desk and as far from Harry's face as she could manage.

"Think less of you for being loved by a fat old fool?"

She looked up sharply, clearly offended by his self-deprecation. "Think less of me for shagging my way up the ladder. Think less of me for being conned out of my knickers by the legendary honey trap Harry Pearce. Think less of me for not being a part of the team anymore because I share the boss's bed. Take your pick, Harry," she snarled.

Harry was growing cross. He knew this conversation was coming, but that didn't mean he liked it. "Anyone who has ever spent five minutes with you would never _ever_ think any of those things about you. I have no intention of promoting you any time soon, so it's not as though you're getting anything out of this relationship. My reputation precedes me, unfortunately, and anyone who would think I charmed my way into your knickers would know that I don't usually have to work so hard. And the whole point of this team, Ruth, is that we are all a team. I may lead this Section, but anyone who is uncomfortable having me in a room on an operation is not someone who belongs here. I have learned that the hard way, unfortunately, but we have a good group on the Grid, and not a single one of those people would ever dare to exclude you because something they say might end up as pillow talk."

Ruth stared at him with wide-eyed horror as he neatly knocked down each and every one of her protestations. She let his stern words wash over her. He could see the wheels turning in her brilliant mind. And finally, she squeaked, "Things are going to change, and I'm scared."

He exhaled in relief. In a soft voice, Harry told her, "Ruth, I love you. And I don't care who knows. But I know that you do care very much, which is why I've taken my time with this. But you must understand that I have spent my whole life sneaking about in the shadows. Being with you is the one bright spot amidst all the darkness, and I don't want to feel like we have to hide away. I don't want to treat you like some illicit affair. I want to be with you. Properly. And this is the first step."

She chewed on her lip as she listened to his sincere words. "I do understand, Harry. Rationally, I see your point. You are not a limited man, I've come to find out. Not to say that you are unlimited, but the depth of you is a bit shocking and perhaps a bit too easy to lose sight of. You hide yourself very well."

"Never from you, Ruth," he interjected.

But she shook her head. "Sometimes from me. But that's alright. You've got to do it." She paused, smiling at him affectionately. "You have the most incredible heart. Your capacity for compassion and justice and integrity and love is stifled by this job sometimes, in the ruthless and heartbreaking things you have to do and the decisions you have to make. But you're so good at doing good, even when it looks like all is lost. And I love you so much for that dichotomy and the way you've opened up to me and let me see the truth of you. And I'm just sorry you've saddled yourself with a coward who wants to run away from every little uncomfortable inconvenience."

Harry frowned. "I don't like that you're so prone to negative hyperbole about yourself, but as long as you don't run away from me, I'll not fault you your caution and reticence."

"It's paralyzing fear, is what it is."

"Whatever you say," he placated with a small smile.

Ruth paused a moment, glancing at the covered windows and the closed door. She stood up and crossed over to Harry's chair. When he turned to face her, she folded herself up onto his lap. "You know what's helped me get through the fear every day on this job?" she murmured.

"What?"

"You. From the first, you made me feel like everything would be alright. That even though I was afraid, the fear wouldn't stop me. I was late to a briefing and dropped a stack of files, and you made some stupid joke that made me smile. You let me see that you were scared sometimes too, when Tessa betrayed you and when Catherine got mixed up in the November Committee and when you were shot. You have always been here to hold me in your arms and make me feel safe." She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "And that is never going to change," she vowed.

"I hope so."

"I trust you, Harry. More than anyone I've ever known. And I want nothing more than to be with you properly, too. So I'll sign the S24, and we can go from there."

"Move in with me, Ruth," he said suddenly.

She just chuckled. "No, I like my little house. My cats like it there, too. But maybe after the forms are processed, I'll let you give me a ride to work when I wake up at yours. How about that?"

"It's a start."

"Yes, it is. Be patient, Harry. Like I said, I'm not going anywhere."


	29. Chapter 29

_Autumn 2006_

Time went by. No one seemed to notice or care that Harry and Ruth arrived on the Grid together more often than not. Malcolm and Jo both tended to smile upon seeing them together. Ros preferred to purse her lips and roll her eyes. And Adam…well, Adam was rather distracted with his own personal dramas.

Harry had to exercise every ounce of restraint not to push Ruth too far, not to want her too much, not to ask for more than she was willing to give. For in their relationship as with nearly everything in her life, it seemed, she was timid and reticent. Oh there was no shyness between them now, not with the amount of time they spent naked and wrapped in each other's arms—which was nearly every spare moment they could manage, it seemed. No, Ruth was simply very deliberate about things. She did not leap before looking. Actually, she did not leap before looking, calculating distance, measuring windspeed, and any other little detail anyone could imagine. The nature of falling in love with an analyst, he supposed. It was her job but also very much her personality. And really, it was probably best that way. He had always been a bit cavalier and brash in his personal life. Ruth forced him to take things slow, to savor every step along the way. Even if he might get a bit grumpy about it.

One Saturday afternoon in late September, Harry found himself in Ruth's company and totally resenting it. She was lounging on the sofa in his house, wearing only one of his old Oxford jumpers and a fuzzy blanket she'd brought over from hers. She had a book in her lap—some sort of Brontë, he thought—and was lazily scratching Scarlett's ears. It should have been a picture perfect moment for Harry, having the woman he loved so comfortable and casual in his home. And yet he wanted nothing more right then than to kick her out so he could be on his own to shout and fester in his anger.

Because while Ruth was obliviously enjoying the day, Harry was pacing in the hall just out of earshot. He was on his mobile and doing his damnedest to keep from swearing up and down. "Juliet, you cannot be serious," he said for the dozenth time.

"Harry, I just can't. I can't keep doing this. The recovery is going practically nowhere. It's too difficult to keep track of things and be presentable and show up in the office."

"So work from home! The PM will allow it. I'll have Malcolm set up your equipment," Harry offered.

She sighed into the line. "No, Harry. I've made my decision. I'm stepping down as JIC Coordinator."

"I was just getting used to dealing with you," he grumbled.

"I know you too well to take that as a compliment. I'm sure you'll have better luck with my replacement."

"And who will your replacement be?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Juliet replied with cagily.

"You do know but you're not going to tell me," he translated.

"How's your girlfriend?"

Harry rolled his eyes. Leave it to Juliet bloody Shaw to change a subject with the deftness of whiplash. "She's very well, thank you."

"I heard it's official now. You did the paperwork. You know, you never did that for us," she pointed out with a fake pout.

"You and I were both married to other people," he reminded her.

She let out a small laugh. "I do seem to forget that. Seems strange that either of us was ever married, doesn't it?"

Harry just grunted in response. He was growing tired of the way she was toying with him.

"Are you going to marry Ruth, Harry?"

"Who's going to be named JIC Coordinator?"

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

"I will go over there and break both your arms to match your legs!" he growled in frustration.

"It's not terribly politically correct to threaten the crippled," she said acerbically. She took a deep breath and told him flat out. "Oliver Mace."

Harry swore loudly. So loudly that Scarlett gave a startled little bark in the other room. "You've got to be joking," he begged quietly, praying this was another one of those disgusting ways Juliet meant to taunt him.

"The PM likes him. Blake likes him. He recommended him, actually. Apparently the Home Secretary likes the idea of having someone in the job who's familiar with it," she explained.

With a heavy sigh, Harry accepted his fate. How the tides had turned. It was just over a year earlier that Mace's attempts to oust Harry from Section D had failed and the HS shoved Mace over as punishment, replacing him with Juliet Shaw. And now Mace was back in favor and it seemed Harry might be left out in the cold. He really was getting too old for this. "God save the Queen," he muttered. He hung up the call, cutting off Juliet's laughter. Sadistic witch.

Harry returned to the living room and flopped down on the far end of the sofa, careful not to fall on where Ruth's legs were stretched out in front of her.

"That didn't sound like a very nice call. What's wrong, love?" she asked with concern. She put her book down to focus her attention on him.

"Juliet Shaw is stepping down. The recovery from her injuries is too much for her to stay in the job anymore."

"Well that's good, isn't it? I mean, the two of you don't get along rather well. Personally, I won't be sorry to see her go," Ruth said darkly.

Harry couldn't resist teasing her a bit. "Jealous?" he asked with a smirk.

Ruth pursed her lips slightly and admitted, "No, not anymore."

"Why not anymore?"

"Because I used to be jealous that she got to have you and I didn't, but now I'm the one half-naked on your sofa and she's not, so I win," she proclaimed.

Harry chuckled happily and placed a fond hand on the lump of her feet beneath the blanket.

"I take it Juliet stepping down is not good news. That must mean you know who's replacing her," she deduced.

"Oliver Mace."

Ruth swore just as Harry had earlier. "Oh that's what that was about, wasn't it?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Well, we'll just have to deal with him as he comes. We've avoided his scheming before. We can do it again," she said optimistically.

Harry couldn't help but smile with the way she said that. _We_ would deal with it. _We_. Though perhaps she meant the whole team. But Harry liked to believe she was speaking about just the two of them. That they had become a collective unit. He certainly liked to think of them that way.

After a brief pause, Ruth spoke again. "Harry?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Do you think you might be able to take a short holiday sometime soon?"

He turned to look at her, a bit taken aback by her answer. "I don't know. Why do you ask? Have you something in mind?"

She smiled softly. "Not exactly. But your birthday is coming up soon, and I thought it might be nice to go away together. If you want."

Harry had to admit she made an attractive offer. After all, the last time they were in a hotel together had been Havensworth, and that had ended up rather wonderfully. Though perhaps any more such happy experiences might overtake his good senses and he'd do something really stupid like propose marriage. "I'll see what I can do. I think it would be really lovely. I usually work on my birthday."

"I'm sure you do. But it's on a Saturday this year, so we could just take Friday off and stay two nights in a B&B somewhere in the country, perhaps."

"We could go to Paris," he suggested quite suddenly.

Ruth's smile widened, as though she, too, could hear Harry's voice in her head softly asking, _Where's your sense of romance?_ "That's an even better idea. Let's go to Paris for your birthday. It's no Grand Tour, obviously, but we could celebrate your birthday properly."

For Harry, just getting to spend the night with Ruth would feel like a proper celebration for his birthday. "That would be wonderful, Ruth," he said softly. "I'll make the arrangements next week."

"No, let me," she requested enthusiastically. "It's your birthday. I want to surprise you. Just make sure we can get the time off, barring an emergency, of course. I'll do all the rest."

"Alright," he agreed.

Ruth sat up and leaned over to kiss him, her face beaming with excitement.

On Sunday, Ruth returned to her house to prepare for the week and to spend some time with her cats. Despite being madly in love, as she assured him nearly every day that she was, Ruth still needed some time on her own. It was what she needed, and Harry didn't fault her for it in the least. He did, however, grow to be a bit of a restless sleeper when she was not in bed beside him. But it just made the nights they did spend together all the more special.

First thing Monday morning, Oliver Mace was named JIC Coordinator. Harry and Ruth were already aware of the news, of course. The rest of the team was grumbling something fierce about it. In a strange way, it made Harry feel better. At least they could all be miserable about dealing with Mace together. As a team.

Ruth had tried to avoid the complaining over Mace as much as she could. She'd already told Harry her thoughts, that it wasn't an idea situation, but they'd be on the ready. And until he did something loathsome, as he certainly would, there was no use wasting valuable time and energy over him. So while Adam and Ros were griping, Ruth made herself useful down in the registry.

About lunchtime, Harry heard the no-knock entrance into his office. He smiled to see Ruth come in with a file in her hand. Only she wasn't smiling.

"Something wrong, Ruth?"

She was chewing on her lips and letting her eyes dart all over the place. A certain sign that something was indeed wrong. "I made this mistake before, and I don't care to repeat it."

"What mistake?"

"Finding something about you and not telling you until it was too late."

Harry had a feeling she was talking about the Contingent Events Committee and the disaster that arose from the discovery of Harry's name on the documents by Angela Wells. "What have you found, Ruth?"

She handed him the file in her hand and explained, "I was in the registry pulling some old records. And this one was misfiled. I noticed the numbering was off, so I pulled it out. And…well…"

"This is my signature on a stack of orders authorizing enhanced interrogation on suspects captured by Five and held overseas," he said, flipping through the pages and seeing his own name, his own tidy scrawl, on every single one, ordering the torture of people captured by his own Section. He looked up at Ruth who was watching him, petrified. "You want to ask me if they're real," he knew.

"I…"

He felt a pang of affection for her. She was warring between her instincts as an analyst, needing to take everything objectively, and her love for him, believing he could never be capable of such a thing. "Well they're not," he told her, seeing her exhale. "They can't be. I didn't sign these pages. The signatures are fake. They must be."

Ruth's whole demeanor relaxed for a moment and then tensed up again. "Then where did they come from?"

Harry had no answer for that.

But Ruth was already prepared with a plan. "I'll pull the CCTV footage to see if I can find who misfiled it. And I'll give the pages to Malcolm to test. He can prove that the signatures are fake."

He gave a curt nod. "Do it. But for now, this goes no further."

Ruth just nodded in return.

When she left his office, Harry scrubbed his face with his hands. This was the beginning of something. Harry could feel it in his bones. Of what, he wasn't sure. But something was coming. And he knew they'd have to all brace themselves.


	30. Chapter 30

"Ruth, darling, I think I'll need your help for this next part. For a lot of the next part, actually. Since there are many things that happened that I wasn't there for," Harry said, pausing his story.

She nodded. "Yes, I figured we'd get there eventually. Oh Harry, I do hate this part, though."

"What? Why?"

Harry smiled at Penny. "Because sometimes things happen that are for the best, but they're very difficult," he explained.

"Like when Mummy had to quit her job to be my Mummy?" Penny asked.

Ruth nodded. "Yes, very much like that. Your mummy loved her job, but she wanted to be your mummy even more, so she had to make sacrifices. And a similar sort of situation happened to us, didn't it, Harry?"

"Yes. Unfortunately we both had to make sacrifices so we could be together in the long run. But that week was one of the worst of my life."

Ruth hummed in agreement. "We were both a mess with panic. Even if it did work out."

"Eventually," Harry corrected. "It eventually worked out. So as I go through, you just add in your bits, alright, Ruth?"

"I'm not as gifted a storyteller as you, Harry, but I'll do my best," she said with an affectionate smile.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Very short interlude here, because the story style changes a bit for the next part, which I affectionately call 'Non-Cotterdam' and I realized halfway through writing it that I swap perspectives a lot, which I didn't do in any of the other chapters, since it was Harry telling the story. But now Ruth has to tell her part as well. So the next chapter will probably already be posted by the time most people read this, since I'm nearly finished with it already.**


	31. Chapter 31

_Autumn 2006_

It only took one week. From start to finish, one week exactly. It all must have been set in motion long before, in order for things to be moved ahead so efficiently. Ruth finding the documents had helped them, in the end, but it was all a horrible mess and they were played like an orchestra, the lot of them.

Ruth had brought the forged documents to Malcolm straight away, just as Harry had asked. And that, of course, got them nowhere.

"The signatures are genuine. By which I mean they were signed by a pen directly onto these pages. And the forgery software I have finds only a four percent deviation from samples we have of Harry's actual signature. Therefore it would be hard to prove that he didn't sign these unless the forger confessed to it."

"To be fair, it's not a difficult signature to fake, I'd imagine. See?" Ruth took a scrap of paper and scrawled out Harry's name. It looked nearly identical to the original and to the forgeries they were investigating.

"That's a bit uncanny, Ruth," Malcolm said.

She blushed slightly. "I've…erm…looked at his signature a lot. On…on records and things."

Malcolm just gave a knowing little nod and said nothing else about it.

Two days later, Harry got a call from the Home Secretary, asking for him to come for a meeting at Whitehall. There was very little explanation about what this meeting was for, only that Harry should clear the rest of his day. Displeased at being summoned thus, Harry grumbled a bit as he gathered spoke to Adam to handle the Grid in his absence. The last thing he did was stop by Ruth's desk and tell her that he'd be at Whitehall and he would love to see her when he got home later and would she mind terribly going over to see to Scarlett if he was running late? She agreed and brushed her fingers over his hand. It was the most affectionate she allowed herself to be in public like this. She would make up for it when he returned home.

Harry made his way to Whitehall, curious and apprehensive as to what this was all about. The reason soon became clear to him. He was greeted by Nicholas Blake and Oliver Mace.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Harry. You see, I've been having my people review recent operations and orders and things, getting up to speed on what the Service has been up to under Juliet Shaw's leadership," Mace explained.

Juliet wasn't so much a leader as she was an obstacle of oversight, but Harry held his tongue. He would volunteer nothing until Mace's scheming was revealed.

At that point, the HS interjected. "Oliver has found something a bit distressing, Harry. And out of respect for you, I wanted to be sure to bring it to your attention and ask you to explain yourself before things get out of hand."

"Explain what?" he asked gruffly.

"Can you tell us what's become of Omar Sayiid, the Al Qaida operative your team apprehended six months ago for the attempted bombing in Liverpool? Or how about Roger Falstaff, alias Muhammad al Bhazri, who you prevented from kidnapping the Foreign Minister back in August?" Mace asked.

That slippery eel, Harry was onto him now. Those were two of the names on the forged torture orders Ruth had found on Monday. "Why don't you ask me what you really want to ask, Oliver?"

"Have you been ordering torture on foreign soil?" Blake asked quietly.

"No. I haven't," Harry answered truthfully.

Mace pulled out a file identical to the one Ruth had shown him from the Registry. "Then how do you explain this?"

"Forgeries. Someone's setting me up. One of my analysts found a file in the wrong place and brought it to my attention. I have never seen those orders before, nor did I sign my name to them."

"That's not what we've heard," Mace said with an evil glint in his beady little eyes.

"We have a witness who came forward to give us these copies. An analyst in your Section named Sally Bernard found this file. She says that she was the one who filed these orders after you'd signed each and every one. Her name is in the electronic record as having input them all," the Home Secretary explained.

Harry's mind was racing. "I have denied the authenticity of these documents. I have members of my team determining their origin already. I would like to speak to Ms. Bernard to better understand her statement regarding this matter. And I would like to do so sooner rather than later. The true culprit will be harder to apprehend the longer we wait," he said coolly, using every ounce of his self-restraint to keep from leaping over the desk and tackling Mace to the ground then and there.

"We cannot let this go, Harry."

"I understand that, Home Secretary. I have no intention of letting it go. But unless you intend on arresting me right now, I must reconvene with my team to plot a course of action in this investigation."

"Why don't I come by and check in on things in a few days?" Mace suggested.

Blake nodded. "A very good idea. And Harry, you do know that if you cannot prove who is culpable…"

"You may arrest me for treason. I understand," Harry snapped. He stood up and turned to leave.

"Take care, Harry. You'll be hearing from me," Mace called after.

With clenched fists, Harry hurried out of the office. The moment he was back on the street, he redflashed his team.

They were all in the meeting room when he arrived. Without any introduction, he launched in. "Two days ago, Ruth came across a file in the Registry in the wrong place. Inside it were signed orders for enhanced interrogation on foreign soil of suspects we had apprehended, all signed by me. Malcolm has looked into the veracity of the signatures and there isn't a way thus far to prove that I did not sign them. Which, I can assure you, I did not. I have just come from a meeting with the Home Secretary and the JIC Coordinator who have also been made aware of these false documents and have tasked me with getting to the bottom of them. All we have to go on so far is that an analyst named Sally Bernard claims to have been under my orders to file them herself. She is lying and I want to know why and for whom."

Everyone stared at Harry in disbelief. Jo was the first one to pipe up. "Is there anyone you think might be behind it, Harry?"

"Oh yes, I know exactly who's behind it. Oliver Mace is trying to get me imprisoned for treason. What we have to do is figure out how to stop him."

Ros stood up. "I'll take care of Sally Bernard." She hurried out of the room.

"I'll look into the logging of the documents. That had to have been falsified, and I think I can dig up proof of it," Malcolm offered.

"Good. And take Zaf with you, review the CCTV of the Registry," Harry instructed.

"I've done that already," Ruth said. "And the records have been altered. I haven't had time yet to weed through it."

"You work with Malcolm and Zaf on that, Ruth."

She nodded.

Adam was sitting quietly, deep in thought. He finally spoke. "I think a bit of digging into Mace might be in order. Jo, you're with me."

The room cleared rather quickly, but Ruth hung back. "Harry," she said quietly. "It's going to be alright, isn't it?"

"Of course, Ruth."

She gave a quick glance to the door, which had closed behind Jo. She stood up and wrapped her arms around Harry and buried her face in his neck.

He kissed her hair and rubbed her back soothingly. "It's alright. I'll never let you go," he murmured.

Three days after that, Harry was arrested. The Grid was swarmed with Special Branch, in case anyone fought back to protect their Section Head. But Harry went quietly. He gave a knowing look to Ros, of all people. No one said a word. Ruth was shaking with the effort to keep from bursting into tears. She wouldn't let Harry see her cry. Not now, not when his whole world was crashing down.

But before she could go hide in the loo and bawl her eyes out, Oliver Mace walked through the pods. "Right, since Harry has been taken into custody for treason, this charade of trying to prove his innocence can end. Mr. Carter, why don't you give me an update on the proper work of the Section? We can use Harry's office. Well, actually, it won't be his office for much longer." Mace had a smile on his face that turned everyone's stomach.

Ros waited till Adam had Mace's attention behind closed doors and walked out of the Grid. About a minute later, everyone got a message from her that read: **Doghouse 3**.

She was waiting for them in the closed underground terminal. Zaf arrived with Jo first, followed quickly by Malcolm and finally Ruth. Adam was obviously waylaid by Mace.

"Right. Adam already knows what I'm about to tell you, so I can fill you in while we wait for him," Ros began. "Harry is innocent, as we all know. But now that he's being detained, that cuts down our timetable somewhat. And therein lies our problem. I have been spending quite a bit of time making Sally Bernard my new best friend. She's definitely in Mace's pocket. And she's a very bad liar. But the problem is that there's no proof to refute her story yet."

Malcolm nodded. "Sally's login was used to scan and file the orders. The timestamps were manipulated to read that each one was entered on a different day, each of which matches up to a few days after each of our poor victims were apprehended, to make it seem like Harry wrote up and signed the order after we caught each one. I was able to trace the manual override for the timestamps to show that they were manipulated, but the encryption is tricky and I haven't been able to pinpoint where it's all come from yet."

"And the CCTV recording is a very messy job of cobbled-together footage, but it was done so well—or so badly, depending on how you want to look at it—that we can tell it was altered but there's no trace of the original. So we have no idea who misfiled those orders for Ruth to find or when they did it," Zaf added.

"What we need," Ros huffed in frustration, "is more time."

"And with Harry in prison, we don't really have any time," Jo stated sadly.

Through all of this, Ruth listened very carefully. She had been spending the last few days with a very stressed Harry, who tossed and turned in bed and could barely look her in the eye or string a full sentence together. He didn't have an answer or a plan beyond what they'd already been doing, and it had been killing him. And killing her.

Adam finally arrived and gave an update on Mace. "He's behind this alright. It's like he was flaunting it. Didn't even disguise how pleased he was to be rid of Harry. Basically handed Section D over to me, provided I stay on side," he snarled in disgust. "What have we come up with to get Harry out?"

"We need the forger," Ruth said quietly.

"Any leads there?" Adam asked her.

"Not one. We need more time," she said, looking down at her boots on the concrete ground. Her mind was spinning, putting the pieces together.

"Yes, I've said that," Ros scoffed.

Ruth lifted her head and looked at her. "So I'll confess."

"But you didn't do this…did you?" Adam asked in fearful suspicion.

"No. But we can make it look like I did. Get Harry out and back on the Grid. I'll take the fall for now, until the truth can be found. It will buy us time," she explained.

Jo jumped to her defense. "Ruth, you can't do that!"

"No, don't you see? It'll be alright. Harry will find a way. Harry will…will figure it out. He needs to be here. Not me. He just needs more time to make a plan and make it all work, and he can't do that if he's in prison. But me…I'm not important like he is. And Harry lo…Harry will find a way to make it right." As she spoke, Ruth got more and more excited. This would work. This would have to work. She could do this. For Harry. To bring Harry back.

Adam put his hands out to calm her down. "Ruth, Harry won't let you do this," he reasoned.

"Well that's precisely why I have to. I'm doing it anyway," she insisted.

"But you're an analyst. It's not your job to throw your life away for love of country."

"I'm not doing it for love of country. But I believe in the work we do here. I believe in Harry."

Jo's eyes filled with tears at Ruth's passionate proclamation. "We need you, Ruth."

But before Ruth could refute her, Ros stepped back in. "I'll do you one better. Ruth confesses to forging Harry's name on those orders. We manufacture the evidence to pin everything on her. And we can even use their relationship in our favor, that Ruth was faking and got in Harry's good graces so she could get close to him and use him. We'll say you were working under orders from some terror group we've already got our eye on, trying to bring down Section D from the inside. We've got plenty of candidates, right?"

"Plenty," Zaf confirmed.

"But instead of Ruth going to prison on Harry's behalf, we stash her somewhere. Make her disappear where Mace can't find her. Malcolm?"

"I can certainly make the arrangements."

"We make a menial show of trying to find her and Harry comes back and we all go back to life as usual, working on this thing in the meantime. If Mace isn't looking over our shoulder, we'll have the time to figure it all out and get the proof we need to properly exonerate Ruth and Harry both."

Everyone stared at Ros in amazement. In just two minutes, she'd come up with the perfect plan to give them the time they needed. Ruth smiled. "When should I confess?"

And so the plan was put into action. It only took a few hours for Zaf and Jo and Malcolm to put together the falsified proof of Ruth's deceit. Ros dealt with Sally Bernard, telling her that if she wanted to stay alive, she would inform the Home Secretary that it was Ruth Evershed who had been the one to give Sally instructions to file the forged orders. Sally agreed to that version of events quite happily. And when they'd put it all together, Adam placed Ruth in a detention room and called Mace.

Harry was sitting in a cell, his tie and belt and shoelaces all taken from him, staring at the floor and trying to work out what the hell he was supposed to do now. His concentration was interrupted by the very man who put him there, Oliver Mace.

"Terribly sorry for the mix-up, Harry," Mace said, all his former good humor from arresting Harry completely gone.

"What mix-up?" Harry asked, getting to his feet.

The guard opened the door. And Mace explained, "The real forger has confessed. Apparently everything was done as a means of toppling Section D."

"By whom?"

"Some group calling themselves Patriotic Protection, apparently they've been on your watchlist."

Harry nodded, more confused by the minute. "They oppose the Security Services for being an arm of a fascist-leaning United Kingdom. But who was the forger?" he asked as they walked out of the detention center.

The smallest hint of a smile played on Mace's face. "One of their operatives. Ruth Evershed."

After her interview where she confessed when and how and why she'd forged Harry's signature and taken a pen and paper to demonstrate her skill at doing so, Ruth was handcuffed and escorted from Thames House.

Harry arrived not ten minutes later and shouted, "Will someone tell me what the bloody hell is going on!?"

Malcolm lifted his head from his computer screen for a single moment before going right back to work. Zaf and Jo and Adam weren't on the Grid. It fell to Ros to take Harry by the arm and suggest they go for a walk.

Ros led him over to the river and explained the plan hastily and quietly. "So now we can find how Mace was actually able to make those orders and attempt to frame you," she finished.

Harry felt sick. "She shouldn't have done it. You shouldn't have let her."

"It wasn't my decision, Harry, it was hers. It was her idea. She was ready to go to prison for you, but assuming Adam and Zaf and Jo are successful, by dawn, she'll have escaped custody and be lost to the wind."

"I need to see her before she leaves," he demanded.

"Harry, you know you're being watched."

"I can lose a tail."

She sighed. "Yes, I know you can. I'll see what I can do. But we'd better get back to Thames House. Go back to business as usual."

Harry agreed and walked back onto the Grid with her. His heart was shattering in his chest, but for this all to work, he had to play along.

Ruth was taken in a police car out of Thames House. But within two blocks, a van barely avoided crashing into them, forcing the driver of the police car to screech to a stop. Two men in masks leapt out and used stun guns on the officers and dragged Ruth into the van and sped off.

Zaf pulled off his mask and grinned. "Hello, Ruth. Lovely day for it."

Jo was driving the van and parked it in an alley while Adam removed Ruth's handcuffs and gave her a coat and a hat as a quick disguise. Adam went his own way while Jo and Zaf took Ruth to another car. They drove out to a warehouse on the docks just outside the city.

"We're going to wait here. Malcolm is going to be by later to give you your instructions. For your safety and our deniability, no one except Malcolm is going to know where you're going. And that's mostly because he knows how to cover his tracks with this sort of thing," Jo explained.

"I'm going to be with you till you leave, Ruth," Zaf told her. "We can have a spot of dinner and there will be a boat coming for you at dawn."

Ruth nodded. "Don't let Harry know what's happening. He'll try to stop me."

Jo bit her lip, her heart aching for her friend. "Okay, Ruth."

Malcolm had come to give Ruth a slip of paper with GPS coordinates which she memorized and then burned. He also brought them some fish and chips for dinner. They ate quietly and then Zaf and Ruth were left alone for the night.

At first light, they were awoken by footsteps in the warehouse. Zaf scrambled to his feet, ready to protect Ruth from danger. But of course, it was just Harry. Wild horses couldn't have kept him away.

"Watch for the boat, would you?" he asked his officer softly.

Zaf nodded and went out to the dock, giving them a bit of privacy.

Ruth hauled herself up off the floor where she'd dozed. "I told them not to let you come."

"I had to, Ruth."

"I'm glad you did," she confessed, making her way to his awaiting arms.

Harry hugged her tight, breathing her in, memorizing the scent of her in his soul. "You can't do this."

"It's already done, Harry. And you need the time to figure everything out," she reminded him.

"I need you here to help."

She looked up at him and shook her head. "But if you're not worried about you or me getting arrested, you can figure it out better. Distract them with some attempts to look for me where they're not going to find me so you can stay where you need to."

"I can't let you do that, Ruth," he protested weakly.

"I'm not asking you, Harry. I'm telling you. This is what I'm doing. It's more important that you be in your job rather than in prison." She stroked his cheek, noticing that he hadn't had a chance to shave yet that morning. He'd probably been up all night, poor love.

Tears were forming in Harry's eyes at the mere thought that he he'd have to say goodbye to her, this wonderful woman he loved more than life who was now sacrificing everything for him. "I'll come for you as soon as I can," he vowed.

She nodded. "I know you will. I know you won't let me go."

"Just a few weeks. A month or two," Harry reasoned.

"Yes," she agreed. A month or two. And then it'll all be sorted. While I'm gone, will you look after my cats?"

He smiled affectionately. "Yes, of course."

Zaf called from just outside the door, "Boat's here!"

"I've got to go now, Harry," she said.

"Ruth, I don't know what I'll do without you."

"You won't be without me for long," she promised. She took his face in her hands and kissed him with all the worry and fear she felt, pressing her lips to his with all the affection in her heart. "I love you," she murmured against his mouth. "I love you so much."

"I love you, Ruth. I'll come for you soon. I love you," he told her desperately.

Ruth pulled away, tears falling down her cheeks. She just nodded. She didn't say another word. She wanted the last thing she and Harry said to each other to be that declaration of love, that promise that they'd be together again soon.

Harry followed her as she ran out to the dock. He stood there and watched the little tugboat until it was out of view.

Zaf was waiting off to the side, not wanting to intrude. Harry turned and walked briskly, wiping the tears from his eyes and declared, "Now then, to work."


	32. Chapter 32

_Autumn 2006_

Harry returned to the Grid feeling wearier than he had in many, many years. He ached from the inside out. He was so unspeakably exhausted that it was a wonder he could remain upright. Everything felt dark and dim and utterly hopeless.

"It worked."

He looked up to see Ros at the doorway in his office. He couldn't even manage to audibly respond to her.

Ros continued without waiting for his input. "Sally Bernard has resigned and agreed on record that it was Ruth, not you, who gave her the orders to file. We've 'uncovered' the payments to Sally's account from Patriotic Protection and given her a bit extra to keep her mouth shut. And Adam's gone to speak to Mace personally to let him know that we've lost track of Ruth but we're working to get her back. Apparently he was none to happy to see that you slipped out of his clutches, but it seems that he's going to let us take care of everything on that end. So everything's worked according to plan, and we're out of the woods."

"For now," Harry grunted.

A flicker of something passed over Ros's harsh face, almost something like sympathy. But then it was gone. "We'll get Ruth's name cleared, Harry," she said softly. "She sacrificed a lot to keep you here and safe, and we won't let that be in vain."

Harry just nodded.

"You might want to go home. You look like hell." And with that, she turned and left his office.

She was right, he knew. But Harry hated the idea of going home and knowing Ruth wouldn't be there with him anytime soon. How was he supposed to spend the next few weeks without her in his bed, in his arms, in his life? Obviously he would do what he had to, and he would bring Ruth home as soon as he possibly could. But in the meantime, the world stretched in front of him full of despair and uncertainty. For now, he would follow Ros's suggestion and get himself cleaned up and rested. He was quite useless in his current state.

Adam was just returning to Thames House when Harry walked out to meet his driver. "I've got some things to take care of. Briefing on all current operations first thing tomorrow," he instructed his Section Chief.

"Get some rest, Harry. Go home and leave the day to us," Adam replied gently.

Harry nodded and got into the back of his car. But he wasn't going home. Not yet. He instructed his driver to take him to Ruth's house.

When he opened the door, Mopsy ran to greet him, winding her body around his ankles. "Hello, you," Harry greeted, bending down to scratch her ears. She purred loudly in response. He hung up his coat and went to the cupboard to find a carryall to pack up some things of Ruth's. He knew that very soon he would have to order the whole house searched because of Ruth's confessed treachery, but he could salvage some of her things first. Their relationship was of record at Five, so his fingerprints on her things and his insistence of taking her cats wouldn't raise any suspicion. And Harry was more than capable of playing the part of duped lover, taken in by a woman who only used him. After all, he'd done it before.

It didn't take too long to gather some of Ruth's things that he particularly wanted to save—books, jewelry, a scarf—and pack up the cats and their things. Fidget and Mopsy both meowed angrily the entire way to Harry's house. He somewhat dreaded what might happen when they met Scarlett. But at least that worry gave him something to focus on that wasn't the reality that Ruth was gone and he had no idea when he'd see her again. He would keep his attention on her little cats and on proving Mace's wrongdoing and getting her home to him as soon as possible.

Surprisingly, Harry had nothing to be concerned about. The cats and the dog all sniffed each other experimentally before Fidget ran to hide under the sofa and Mopsy took to following Scarlett everywhere she went. Harry's little dog seemed thoroughly unconcerned by the feline intruders into her domain. And Harry immediately wished he could tell Ruth how well they all got on. "You see, darling? They're happy here. We could all be happy here," he murmured aloud. He could almost hear her tell her he was being silly but yes, she would move in with him and they wouldn't have to spend another night apart.

Harry sighed and shook his head. He was being silly. He was sleep deprived and losing his mind. He would get some rest and wake up ready to get back to work properly. And maybe when the job was done and Mace was properly thwarted, he could have her come live with him for the rest of their days.

Over the next ten days, Harry was thankfully distracted from his loneliness and pathetic pining for his lady love by the usual smattering of counterterrorism tasks. His team was back to work, busier and busier with the threats to their shores. Jo had taken it upon herself to work on the Ruth issue, but she was buried in work. She and Malcolm were practically chained to their desks at the Grid while Adam, Ros, and Zaf were out in the field. They had no lead analyst anymore, so Jo was relegated to many of the tasks that Ruth usually did. Without Colin, Malcolm was doing all technical work on his own. They were understaffed for their active operations, let alone for the extracurricular work in bringing Ruth home.

Malcom ended up being the one to bring the troubles to Harry's attention. He knocked politely and waited for Harry to call for him to come in. "Hello, Harry. Do you have a few minutes?"

"Of course." Harry gestured for his friend to take a seat. "What's the trouble?"

"Well, not so much trouble…well, perhaps a bit of trouble…" Malcolm replied awkwardly.

Harry just waited for him to get out with it.

"First, I think you may have noticed that we need an analyst. I can handle things myself in the forgery suite, and Jo is doing a fine job filling in, but she should be getting the field experience and she can't when we don't have enough support on the Grid. We all know how good Ruth is, but I don't think the rest of the team was aware she did the work of three analysts with better accuracy and more efficiency."

"I'm going to second someone from Section A," Harry answered, not wanting to dwell on the issue. "I know everyone is a bit overworked. Is that all?"

"That's all for the operational side of things."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "And the non-operational side?"

Malcolm sighed sadly. "I'm a bit worried about Adam."

"How so?"

"Well, Ruth did bring it to my attention before she…left."

"What's wrong with Adam?"

"I don't think he's doing very well with the trauma of losing Fiona. He's keeping it together as best he can, but I don't see how it won't come to a breaking point. And it could happen in the field, and it could be dangerous for the whole team if he doesn't deal with this."

Harry gave a slow nod. Ruth had expressed similar concerns to him as well, but he had hoped to give Adam the space to work things out for himself. Clearly he hadn't made much progress if Malcolm had become concerned as well. "I'll have a talk with him soon."

"Thank you. I think he needs it. And the last thing…"

Malcolm was visibly nervous now, which put Harry on edge. "Yes?"

"I've been taking control of Ruth's things. Bank accounts, credit cards, email accounts and such. Since we are supposed to be investigating her."

"Of course."

"And there were some charges that I…well, that seemed odd."

"Oh?"

"She paid for a hotel in Paris for next weekend."

Harry's stomach flipped and his chest constricted painfully. "Ah. Yes."

Malcolm clearly saw that Harry knew about the Paris trip already. "Shall I have the charge reversed?"

"Yes, please. We had planned to go to Paris for my birthday. Obviously we aren't going now." Harry swallowed hard to keep his voice from cracking.

"Oh I'm so sorry, Harry."

"Circumstances have changed," he replied gruffly.

"We will get her back," Malcolm promised.

Harry just nodded. He let Malcolm leave the office and return to his work. Harry himself got up and poured himself a glass of scotch.


	33. Chapter 33

"You were sad she was gone?" Penny asked, the sympathy etched in her young features.

"Very sad," Harry replied. He didn't wish to emote too heavily at the little girl, but remembering those days when he and Ruth had been separated still hurt much more than he ever expected it to.

"So what did you do till she got back? A month isn't so long," Penny pointed out astutely.

In that moment, Harry wanted to pick up the child and hold her on his lap and bury his face in her sandy curls and hide them both from the cruelties of the world. He had not wanted to tell this story for this very reason, initially. He had not wanted to shatter her youthful innocence with harsh realities. And this reality had been harsher than most.

Penny understood death; a cat she'd lived with all her young life had been put down the year before. Harry knew how Penny's mother had struggled to explain the concept of death. Harry had tried to help, having been much closer to the topic for much longer than nearly anyone else. But he was rather sure he'd botched it. She seemed now to be reacting and understanding all the death of his and Ruth's colleagues just fine. But death, in many ways, could be helpful. It was a sense of finality that one rarely otherwise experienced. Being locked in the tragically hopeful spiral of waiting for someone to return and not knowing if they ever would was a much more complex and painful experience.

Ruth stepped in during Harry's pensive silence. "It was very sad for both of us to be apart and not know when we would see each other."

Penny turned to Ruth and furrowed her little brow. "But he loved you so much. He came to get you early, right?" she reasoned.

"I wanted to," Harry said. "More than anything. I wanted to solve the problem and bring Ruth home as quick as I could. But things kept…getting in the way."

"Was it two months?"

"No, darling girl. It was not two months," Harry answered darkly.


	34. Chapter 34

_Late Autumn 2006_

"Adam? Adam, can you hear me?" Harry shouted through the microphone.

There was no response. Harry stood behind Malcolm, staring at the computer screen, watching helplessly as Adam Carter sank to the floor, curling up and shivering. He was entirely unresponsive. He was losing it. And Harry had to watch it happen. Oh what he wouldn't have given in that moment for Ruth to be there, for her to speak softly and gently in Adam's ear so he could be brought out of this episode. But since she wasn't, Harry would have to figure something else out.

"Ros? Do you have eyes?" he asked, hoping his tone was not as desperate as he felt. Christ, if he couldn't rely on his Section Chief…

The sharp voice of Ros Myers sounded through the speakers. "Not yet. I'm on my way. Jesus, Harry, we can't…"

"I know," he interjected. The entire operation was going to hell, but right now, all that mattered was getting Adam out safe. They'd get another opportunity with the Albanians if they needed to.

"You're nearly there, Ros," Jo said from her station. She was monitoring the CCTV footage in the building. "There's a hostile approaching around the corner," she warned.

With two loud bangs, Ros shot the attacker before he could draw his weapon. A visceral scream erupted.

"Adam, you listen to me!" Harry yelled above Adam's cries of anguish. "Adam, you've got a little boy who needs you. You promised Fiona you'd take care of Wes. And you cannot do that if someone shoots you before Ros can get there. Adam, shut up!"

It took a moment, but Adam did quiet. He was breathing heavily and whimpering. Harry's heart ached for the suffering of his officer. His friend.

"I've got him, Harry," came Ros's voice again. Much softer, she spoke to Adam. Harry could see her kneeling beside him on Malcolm's surveillance feed. "Come with me," she said to him softly. "We're going to get out of here. We've got to get you safe."

"Got the detonator," Zaf announced suddenly.

For a moment, everyone had forgotten about the operation, so consumed were they by Adam's breakdown. But Zaf had remained focused on the objective and accomplished it, even when Ros had to abandon him.

"Good," Harry answered. "Now, everyone get the hell out of there!"

"Come on, Adam, we've got to go!" Ros begged, trying to haul him off his feet.

His head snapped to attention, but his eyes were unseeing. "Wes?" he asked in confusion.

"Yes, we're going to see Wes," Ros told him.

"Jenny…shouldn't have…with Jenny…" Adam babbled. "Promised Fi…"

Harry put two and two together and realized Adam had been shagging the nanny. Part of him was disappointed in the man, but he was certainly not surprised. He'd warned Ruth not to hire an attractive woman to be in Adam's house. Well, he'd certainly have to put an end to that now.

Eventually, the team got to the rendezvous point and successfully returned to the Grid. By that time, Adam had recovered his own consciousness. Harry immediately brought Adam into his office and drew the blinds.

"It'll never happen again, Harry," Adam began.

"You're damned right it won't. I'm sending you to Tring."

"I don't need that…"

"This is not a discussion, Adam. You have been suffering for months. I should have done this much sooner. You have a son who needs you to be his father. You have a team here who need to be able to rely on you. Right now, you are incapable of doing your job. For your own safety, you need to deal with this," Harry insisted. Adam tried to open his mouth, but Harry cut him off again. "If you try to tell me you're fine, I will break your bloody neck!"

Adam was stunned for a moment but gave a small smile. "Alright, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Do the work. Learn how to cope. You owe it to Wes and to us all to do this properly."

"Yeah, okay," he agreed. "Jenny can tell Wes I'm on a trip again."

"I'll be finding a new nanny," Harry informed him.

"What!? Why?"

Harry furrowed his brow. "You know why."

Adam just sighed and nodded.

"I'll speak to Fiona's parents and keep Wes till they can take him. A car will be coming for you in about half an hour. Call you house and settle your story. Let Jenny know I'll be there at five to pick up Wes."

When Adam left the office, Harry poured himself a scotch and drank it down in one go. This day had been far too much already. Everything was just far too much.

After calling Fiona's parents and making a plan with them, Harry drove to Adam's flat and picked up Wes and all his gear and school things. He barely spared a word to the nanny. He didn't have the energy to feign politeness. But when Wes hugged Jenny goodbye, Harry heard him tell her, "Uncle Harry gets grumpy, but we love him anyway." Harry was rather sure that was the first time he'd properly smiled in quite a while.

It was a great help to be with Wes. He was quite a happy child, and since he was used to his parents being away for days and weeks at a time his whole life, he didn't ask any bothersome questions about Adam. Harry did not like having to lie to the boy. Long gone were the days when he could lie to people he loved without a second thought. His heart had been beaten to a pulp, and all the self-denial and self-control that had always kept him alive were no longer enough to shield him from the guilt of it all.

"Scarlett!" Wes cried, dropping all his things in the middle of the foyer in order to greet Harry's dog.

"She's quite happy to see you," Harry noted, grinning at how his sweet old dog barked and jumped around excitedly.

Curious as always, Mopsy came from upstairs to investigate the noise and excitement. Wes noticed her immediately. "Uncle Harry, is Auntie Ruth here?"

All good feeling quickly evaporated. "No. Just Mopsy and Fidget. Auntie Ruth had to go away."

"Is she on the trip with my dad?"

"No. Auntie Ruth got in trouble and had to leave."

"Will she be back?"

Harry paused for a moment. He really didn't want to lie. But he didn't want to let Wes believe that Ruth was the villain she had confessed to being before she'd disappeared to save Harry. And he couldn't tell Wes the whole truth. He settled on the vaguest response. "I hope so, Wes. One day."

There was no more discussion of Ruth or of Adam for the rest of the night, thankfully. Harry cooked up some spaghetti for their dinner. He made sure Wes finished his homework. They sat on the sofa and cuddled together with the the cats and the dog and watched a bit of telly before bed. Wes had been over at Harry's before, so he had no trouble getting showered and changed and settled in the guest bedroom.

"Goodnight, Wes," Harry murmured. "We'll have breakfast in the morning before your grandparents get here. They'll take you to school."

"Why can't I stay here with you till Dad gets back?"

"Because I have to work. But next weekend, you can come back over to play with the animals. How does that sound?"

Wes nodded and yawned, not being able to give a verbal answer. Harry smiled and pushed back the boy's bright blond hair as he started to fall asleep.

With Wes tucked in and taken care of, Harry went back downstairs. He had some calls to make.

First, to Tring, to ensure Adam was well taken care of. Thankfully, he was. By all reports, Adam Carter was settling in nicely and was open and receptive to treatment. The doctor with whom Harry spoke was optimistic thus far.

Next, Harry called Malcolm. The Grid needed to be taken care of.

"This won't do, Harry."

"I know, Malcolm," he replied, scrubbing his face. "With Adam out, I'll have to put Ros in charge."

"Are you certain?"

"For the time being. Between she and Zaf, I'm confident in my senior field officers. Jo will go back out first thing. Ros isn't really the mentoring type, but Zaf should do well. Provided he keeps focused," Harry added darkly.

Malcolm sighed over the line. "The field isn't where we're understaffed, Harry."

"I know. And I know that analyst what's-his-name hasn't worked out."

"Trevor," Malcolm offered.

"Yes, him. What we need is someone we can trust. I need to not be worried that the work is being done properly. I need to have the Grid under control."

"We need Ruth back," Malcolm said in a quiet tone.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Harry snapped. "But in the meantime, I need someone who can do the job. We've made absolutely no progress against Mace, and Lord knows he's probably finding a new way to get rid of me as we speak. It's been two whole months now, and we've done nothing!"

"We've been busy, Harry," Malcolm replied gently. "None of us have forgotten about Ruth. We all want her back. I know you more so than the rest of us, of course, but we all care about her."

"Thank you," he answered sadly. "But I think I know who I can bring in for the time being."

"Oh?"

Harry let out a quiet groan. "Provided I can summon up the strength for a bit of groveling."

Malcolm paused for a moment, trying to decipher what that meant. It didn't take him long. "Oh! Yes, I think we'd all benefit there."

"Glad you agree. I'll call now."

"Give her my love. Though I don't know if that would be convincing at all."

Harry chuckled lightly. "I'll see what I can do."

He and Malcolm said their goodbyes, and Harry hung up. He sighed heavily and gave Fidget a scratch behind the ears. The big gray cat had found his way onto Harry's lap and was now purring happily.

Looking back at his phone, Harry dialed a number he'd long committed to memory but had never needed to use. Not until now. It rang three times before it was answered.

"Hello, Connie."


	35. Chapter 35

_Winter 2006_

Harry had told himself he was going to sleep in. He was going to stay curled up in his lonely bed as long as he could possibly bear it. He was going to sleep the day away. That was the only way he'd get through it, he knew. Really, he should have just gone into work, though that somehow felt even more like admitting defeat.

But of course, Harry Pearce had always been an early riser. Never could get back to sleep after he'd woken up, no matter how hard he tried. So he hauled his ancient body out of bed at half past six, unable to keep himself there any longer.

It was just as well, of course. Scarlett had to be seen to. She really was getting on. Harry was starting to be concerned about her. Especially in the snowy winter months. He wanted to exercise her, but the cold was a bit much for her little body. He only let her outside to do her business and otherwise did his best to toss a toy for her in the hallway so she could run around a bit. Usually Mopsy would join in the game. Scarlett seemed to prefer the cat toys anyway.

Harry was in the midst of tossing a small stuffed mouse for Scarlett to fetch—with Mopsy bounding down the hall beside the dog—when the doorbell rang. Fidget yowled rather loudly. Harry chuckled as he went to see who it was. His own dog had been well trained not to bark unexpectedly, but Ruth's giant gray feline didn't seem to have similar manners.

He opened the front door and was instantly surprised by his visitor. "Why?" was all he said.

"And a happy Christmas to you, too. Let me in, it's freezing out here."

With a sigh, Harry let his visitor in. She shook snow off her scarf as Harry politely took her coat. When she was all unwrapped, she turned and kissed his cheek with a smile. Harry returned her expression fondly. "Merry Christmas, Connie."

Connie reached into her handbag and pulled out a very nice bottle of scotch.

"It's ten in the morning," he informed her.

"Oh so you're suddenly concerned about healthy drinking habits?"

Harry sighed. "I'll get us some glasses. Come through."

Connie followed him and commented, "I had a feeling that you would be similarly bored on the holiday, since I noticed we were both rostered off. Figured we could spend the day catching up. We've been a bit busy on the Grid. You usually work on Christmas, don't you?"

He nodded. "I had requested the time off a few months ago. Plans that fell through."

"Hmm," Connie hummed knowingly. Harry wondered for a moment how she could possibly know why she was sad, but then remembered that she almost certainly had looked at his personnel file since returning to the Grid a few weeks earlier. She would have seen the S24.

Harry poured them both a hefty glass of scotch. Not a bad way to spend Christmas, all things considered, getting pissed with a dear old friend.

Connie took a seat on the sofa and was immediately greeted by the tortoiseshell cat. "When did you become a cat person?" she asked in disbelief, hesitantly patting the top of the animal's head.

Harry didn't answer right away. He finished pouring their drinks and came to sit in his usual armchair. "That's Mopsy. She's outlandishly friendly. Fidget takes a bit to warm up to people."

"Two cats and a dog, Harry?"

He sighed. He had been waiting for an opportunity to explain the situation to Connie. After all, he'd brought her back to Five because of the…situation. "The cats belong to someone else. I'm taking care of them for the time being."

"Would this 'someone else' happen to be your analyst who was paid off by a domestic terrorist group to bring down Section D from the inside?"

Harry raised his brows at her questioningly, taking a sip of his drink.

Connie shrugged slightly. "Don't think I didn't do my research before I got here."

"I expect nothing less. And that is precisely why I wanted you here, Connie. I need someone I can trust."

"You can't trust your team?"

"Oh I can absolutely trust my team," he assured her. "They're the reason we've any hope at all through this mess."

"Perhaps you'd better start from the beginning."

And so he did. Harry told Connie about Ruth Evershed, the shy and somewhat odd analyst brought over from GCHQ who had shown more strength and kindness and sheer loveliness than any person he had ever known. Harry told Connie that, against all odds, he and Ruth had become friends and fallen madly in love.

"You've been drawn in by a pretty face before, Harry," she reminded him, her tone taking on a hint of big sisterly warning.

But Harry shook his head. "Ruth is different. So very, very different. She's gentle."

Connie scoffed, "That's not a trait I'd have thought you'd be interested in, Harry."

"I've mellowed in my old age."

"You're fifty-three. Settle down."

He chuckled. "No, certainly not over the hill just yet. Thank goodness."

Getting up to refill their glasses, Connie returned to their conversation. "Alright, so you and Ruth fell madly in love. What of it?"

"Well, other than being thoroughly lovely in every way, Ruth is the most brilliant person I've ever known. She's got an analytical mind like you wouldn't believe. She'd give you a run for your money, actually."

"I'll try not to take offense to that. But go on." She handed him his glass and took her seat on the sofa again, this time with Mopsy purring on her lap.

He had another sip of scotch. "Do you remember Oliver Mace?"

Connie frowned. "Mace…toady little bugger at Six? Too tall for polite company?"

Harry gave a wheezy laugh at that description. "Too right."

"He's JIC Coordinator now, isn't he?"

"Unfortunately, yes," he replied darkly. Harry went on to explain how Oliver Mace had a bit of a vendetta against Harry and saw him as the prime enemy to his plans to take the United Kingdom in a horrific direction. He took Connie through the entire fateful ordeal that led to Ruth having to leave him, from the day she discovered the forged torture orders in the Registry to Ruth's proffered confession so Harry could get out of jail to the false kidnapping by Jo, Zaf, and Adam to ensure Ruth to escape safely.

"Ah so that's why you need me. Your little agents can't find her."

He shook his head. "Malcolm knows where she is. He's the only one. And we'll keep it that way. No, we need you to find proof that Mace is behind all this nonsense and get the bastard taken down for treason so I can bring Ruth home," he explained.

Connie nodded. "Your team is stretched far too thin as it is. Ros is very good, but there's something about her…"

"Yes, I know. You wouldn't believe me if I told you she's come a long way. But considering I had Adam bring her onside after she and her father committed treason and a bit of light domestic terrorism…"

"Well, she's becoming a good leader at any rate. Zaf and Jo certainly respect her, and they do rather good work themselves."

Harry nodded in agreement. "They are coming along nicely. And Adam will be back in the new year, so we'll finally have a full team. And with you and Malcolm running the Grid, I have no concerns that things will begin to move much more smoothly."

"And in the meantime, of course, I'll be doing a bit of digging into Oliver Mace?"

With a rather wan smile, Harry nodded. "If you would be so kind."

Connie studied him for a moment. Harry wasn't sure what she was looking for and whether she found it in his face. But she nodded back at him with a sense of satisfaction. "I've never seen you like this before, Harry. And I have known you a very long time."

"Yes, you have," he agreed quietly.

Fidget had found his way over to the small party and hopped up onto Harry's lap. Scarlett lifted her head from where she lay at her master's feet to see what was going on, but she soon settled down again. "You'd give it all up for her, wouldn't you? You'd give this Ruth of yours everything you could never give to any of the others. Not Jane or Juliet or Elena or the rest," Connie said in steady amazement.

"In a heartbeat," Harry replied.

"We'd better be able to give you that opportunity then, hadn't we? Wouldn't want you to get shot or given the sack before you could make some grand romantic gesture, eh?"

Harry smiled. "I would appreciate it."

"I did tell you I'd come back to help. And I will. But I won't be here forever. We'd best get the job done before time runs out."

Connie's last statement seemed a bit too cryptic for Harry's taste, but he chose not to address it. He had her assistance, and she would help him get Ruth back. And for the first time in nearly three months, Harry felt something startlingly similar to hope.


	36. Chapter 36

_Late Winter 2007_

It was cold. Too cold for Harry to be standing up on the roof of Thames House. Too cold for snow, even. They hadn't had any in London since just after New Year's.

Harry rubbed his leather gloved hands together and thought how he wished he had his scarf. A small smile played on his face. Ruth would have brought him a scarf. She was always scolding him for forgetting it.

But the thought of Ruth, as quick as it warmed him, left him cold and empty again. In two days' time, it would be Valentine's Day. He should be filled with distracting thoughts of romantic plans for the two of them. Instead, he was feeling wearier and wearier by the day. There would be no candlelit dinner, no wine and roses, no diamonds to adorn her, no sensual massage, none of the sickly sentimental things Harry had scoffed at for years before he'd had someone on whom he wanted to dote in such a manner.

Ruth had been gone for nearly four months. Over twice the amount of time he'd promised her. He had failed her, he knew. They'd not been able to find a way to exonerate Ruth, to prove her false confession for what it was, to crucify Oliver Mace as he deserved.

Adam had gone off the rails, the trauma of losing his wife and fearing for his son finally taking its proper toll on him. Harry hadn't fully realized how much he relied on Adam Carter until he found himself unable to depend on his Section Chief. The breakdown was perhaps more expected than it had been with Tom Quinn, given what Adam had gone through. Tom had shot Harry in the shoulder—a scar that still twinged to this day—but seeing Adam falter had hurt Harry even more. Adam and Fiona had been dear friends to him. As dear of friends as spooks could have, he supposed. And their dear little Wes. That beautiful boy who called him Uncle Harry, who had probably done more to facilitate the increasing closeness between Ruth and Harry than anything else. The Carters had given a real, living, happy, beautiful example of what sort of life two spooks in love could lead. Ruth had focused her attention on Wes and had done so with Harry at her side.

Thankfully, Adam had put in the work to cope better with his trauma. He'd done the work so he could return home to his boy. They'd spent the holidays together, and Adam had been back on the Grid on January second. Ros had done a remarkable job leading the field agents during Adam's absence. Harry was immensely proud of her. For one who had only joined Five as a reluctant last resort, Ros Myers had done rather well coming onside. She got along well with Connie, which in turn made Harry's life significantly easier. And now that they had a full staff of competent, reliable officers once more, Harry had a smidge of hope that they might be able to get back to the covert task of bringing Ruth back home.

Malcolm had done well in making sure no one let Ruth's memory fade too much. And Jo missed her terribly, Harry knew. He had noticed the young officer gaze forlornly at Ruth's empty station nearly as much as Harry himself did. But of course there were always more pressing things to take their attention. Threats of biological warfare from Iran in the form of a new plague. Rumors of collusion between the Russians and the Saudis in toppling the oil supply. Constant chatter of terrorist attacks, both from foreign cells and domestic extremist groups. It never ended. And the team all looked to Harry for guidance, which he gave to the best of his ability. That was his sworn oath, not just to his country and his job but to Ruth, as it was her sacrifice that had kept him there doing what needed doing. He wanted nothing more than to drink himself into a stupor and just say sod it all. But he wouldn't dishonor her that way.

Harry sighed, doing his best not to let a groan of frustration escape his lips. Nothing was going as it should. There was finally a slight lull in the terror level, the kind of lull that would have lent itself to investigating Oliver Mace, but instead, the Grid was alight with a problem of a different sort.

Ros was missing.

They'd finally gotten Adam back, they'd finally had a week where no one was rostered off, they'd finally not had an emergency operation occupying their time, and where was Ros? No one knew. Adam had tried calling her. Malcolm had tried tracing her mobile. Connie had scoured CCTV footage all around the city. Jo and Zaf had searched her flat and tried to interview friends and neighbors. Well, just neighbors. Ros didn't really have friends out there in the real world. She wasn't the sort. She was very like Harry that way.

Having Ros vanish and not know who to ask reminded Harry very acutely of his own dire situation. Ros herself had once admonished Harry for his personal life being in shambles. And she was right. Other than the people he worked with on the Grid, there was no one out in the world who would ever notice if he disappeared one day. Harry had long known that a spook's life was lonely. He'd massacred his marriage and his attempt at fatherhood. And at fifty-two, he'd just managed to carve out some semblance of hope for a life outside his work, but before he'd turned fifty-three, Ruth was gone as well. Not forever, certainly.

Well, Harry was less certain of that with each passing day.

The door to the roof opened behind Harry. He would have expected Ruth, but obviously that was just his maudlin mood running away with him. He turned to see who had joined him.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" he growled.

Ros Myers pushed back her chin-length blonde hair as the cold breeze blew it about. "I got kidnapped," she bit back.

Harry did a rather good job of hiding his shock. "By whom?"

"I'm fine, thank you for asking."

"You wouldn't be standing here talking to me if you weren't fine, Ros. Who kidnapped you?" Harry asked with increased frustration.

Ros came to stand beside him at the railing. "Am I correct in assuming there isn't any surveillance up here?"

"Unless there's a satellite above us, you're correct, yes."

She huffed slightly. "I have spent the last two days…I think it was two days…being strapped to wooden blocks as water slowly dripped onto my forehead. And after the delights of that torture, when I was weakened into submission—or so they thought—I was given a polygraph and 'rescued' by the same bastards that took me to begin with. Apparently it was a test to see how I'd cope under the pressure."

"I have no doubt you coped admirably."

"You're damned right I did," Ros scoffed. "I was then taken into a room and given a lovely meal with Lord Young."

"Lord Young?!" Harry asked in surprise.

"Apparently he likes to go by Sholto now. And it seems he's heading up a group hellbent on changing the world order, to keep the power in England and trying to keep us from following America like pathetic sheep to their shepherd."

"A noble ambition."

Ros just laughed humorlessly. "They call themselves Yalta. They've got operatives all over the world in every single intelligence group known to man, trying to undo what was done by Churchill, Stalin, and Roosevelt at the Yalta Conference that shaped the modern international power structure. And given my father's beliefs and my role in assisting his plans, Sholto wants to recruit me. To give Yalta a mole in Section D."

"And why are you telling me this?" Harry asked her.

"Because I am not a person who makes the same mistake twice. I saw firsthand how good intentions can so easily be corrupted. My own father may have fooled me into believing such things, but Lord Young and the rest of his well-meaning lunatics will not be so lucky. That being said, I didn't want to refuse the offer," she added with a small smile.

Harry regarded her carefully for a moment and had to smile a bit himself. "Well done, Ros," he told her softly.

She nodded curtly. "I'll keep you updated. I want to talk to Connie and get some more information before I go back to talk to Sholto."

"Keep it there for now. You, Connie, and I will keep this to ourselves till we get a better sense of the actual reach of Yalta, not just what Lord Young might be spouting as recruitment rhetoric. We can bring in the others as needed," Harry instructed.

"Agreed. And now I'll go back inside. You've got to be a masochist to stay out in this cold for so long," she chided, turning and hurrying through the door as quick as she could.

Masochist indeed. Harry sighed once more. He was pleased Ros was back and unharmed, but this mysterious Yalta was yet another threat to keep his team too busy to find Ruth. Though Ruth would have absolutely loved this, Ros playing double agent with a group of Yalta's purported credentials. Connie would hopefully be able to work with Ros to dispense with all of this in an efficient manner, since Ros had astutely come to Harry first with the information. But until then, it was another problem, another dire setback. And it seemed to Harry that they'd never end.


	37. Chapter 37

Harry paused. He needed a moment before he could go on. It had been quite some time since he'd had to put himself back in that mindset of being without Ruth, of having so little faith that she could return home to him.

Ruth noticed his sudden quiet. "Should I perhaps tell my part now?" she suggested softly.

Penny immediately gasped in that way that exuberant children often do. "Yes! Yes, what were you doing? Where did you go?"

With a laugh, Ruth took Penny's little face in her hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I will tell you," she promised. "But remember that this isn't my story, it's Harry's. And so you jump in whenever you want to, Harry, alright?"

Harry nodded. "I'll jump in whenever I want to. But I realize that I don't think I've heard the full story of what all you did during our time apart. You didn't tell me everything, I'm sure."

"No, I didn't," she conceded. "But it wasn't a particularly happy time in my life, to kiss you goodbye and get on a boat on the Thames to run off and hide in some remote corner of the world till you could come get me. Even if I did believe it would only be for a few weeks."

A cloud of sadness crossed Harry's features. Both Ruth and Penny immediately noticed. Damn his retirement for causing his tradecraft to desert him this way. Though, to be fair, he never quite could hide his feelings from Ruth. He'd never much wanted to. Not in many, many years.

To everyone's surprise, even her own, Penny got up from where she was seated on the sofa with Ruth and crossed to Harry's armchair and clambered up on his lap. Harry lifted her up so she could be seated comfortably. She buried her little face in his neck and clutched at his shirt tightly. "Don't be sad," she murmured. "We're all together now."

Harry smiled, his whole being filling with warmth. "Yes, you're right, darling girl. We're all together now."

Penny sat up a bit so she could look up at Harry's face. She took her little hands and smushed his cheeks. Thanks to age and weight fluctuation, his face didn't have any of the firmness it might have once had. And since she was barely big enough to use her own baby hands, Penny had liked to grab at his cheeks this way. It was perhaps unflattering, but Harry was beyond delighted when young Penny wanted anything to do with him. Catherine certainly hadn't been so affectionate when she was that young. Then again, Harry had been quite a different man when Catherine was small.

Ruth watched the silly little things that Harry allowed Penny to do to him and could barely keep from laughing with joy. Wrapped around her finger, he was. And even Ruth, who had long since known the tenderness that Harry possessed, deep down, would not have dreamed that he might behave this way with little Penny. But she was ever so glad of it.

A moment later, Penny seemed to lose interest in squishing Harry's face. She scrabbled about, readjusting how she sat on Harry's lap. She grabbed his arms and wrapped them around her, snuggling into his embrace. He pressed a kiss to her curly hair.

When she was at last satisfied with her position, she turned her attention back to Ruth. "Where did you go when you left?" she asked once again, demanding that Ruth now take up the storytelling.

Ruth could not help a sad little sigh. "I went to a magical, wonderful place. Like paradise on earth," she said. "But for me, it was like some very sick torture. I couldn't be happy there, even when it was so beautiful and perfect."

"Why not?"

Harry met Ruth's eyes and saw her give him that very particular look. Ruth explained, "Because I left my very heart and soul on the banks of the Thames."


	38. Chapter 38

_Autumn 2006_

It was just an average Saturday for Rafaela Lombardi. She opened the bookshop just in time for the first tourist ferries to arrive in town. She set up outdoor displays with souvenirs and little flower pots to bring some life and color to the cobblestone walk out front. She greeted her neighbors with a smile as the breeze rustled her blonde hair.

Soon, the visitors from every part of the world would swarm the streets. The bells of Santa Margherita di Antiochia would signal the beginning of the day. Rafaela charmed those who walked by, easily conversing in English, French, Spanish, Arabic, Mandarin, Greek, and her native Italian. She had not been in Vernazza long, but the locals were all enchanted by the newcomer from Turin and gladly accepted her into their community.

All day, Rafaela entertained her customers, selling guidebooks and decorated dishtowels, novels and painted plates. The work was a bit exhausting, but she loved it. When the evening came, she closed up shop and went across the street to the church. She sat inside and lit a candle and quietly prayed. After that, she went up to her flat on the top floor of the building.

And when she finally threw open the windows to the rooftop balcony and locked her front door from any visitors, Ruth Evershed began to cry.

For Rafaela, it was an average Saturday. For Ruth, it was the birthday of the man she loved. They were going to spend the weekend in Paris. She was going to make his birthday really wonderful and special, walking the Parisian streets hand in hand, perhaps kissing in the rain on the banks of the Seine. But instead, she had travelled down the Thames in a tugboat to get ship passage to France and a train to Italy and finally another boat to this tiny coastal town of the Cinqueterre. It had been two weeks since she had kissed Harry goodbye, when he had promised that he would come for her soon.

Ruth kept faith that Harry would indeed come for her. Harry loved her. She had faith in that more than anything else. Harry Pearce was not a particularly loving man, not one to bother wasting time giving his heart away. But somehow, Harry loved her as she loved him. So it would just be a few more weeks, pretending to be Rafaela Lombardi, the bookseller of Vernazza.

As she looked out over the bay behind the roof of the church, Ruth wiped her tears away and tried to think happier thoughts. She would probably be home by Christmas. Perhaps, if they didn't have to be on the Grid, she and Harry could go to Paris for Christmas. Or New Year's, even. They would have plenty of time to make plans for their future once they were reunited. Just a few weeks, he'd promised. A month or two at the most. She could surely survive till then.

Besides, Malcolm had given her the most wonderful legend. If she couldn't be Ruth Evershed for two months, being Rafaela Lombardi was a nice alternative. Everyone liked Rafaela. She was friendly and bright and outgoing in a way Ruth had always wished she could be. Rafaela didn't have Ruth's same misgivings about the world, didn't fall into depression so easily. It was nice to be her.

Ruth went to bed that night dreaming of Harry, hoping he was having a nice birthday. Hopefully Adam and Malcolm at least took him out for a drink or to dinner. Perhaps Catherine had called him. Was he taking care of her cats as he'd promised? If so, Mopsy surely had cuddled with him. If Harry ever fell asleep on the sofa, Fidget had probably ended up lying on his chest. The thought of it made her smile as she fell asleep.

November went by quickly and uneventfully. Six weeks since she'd left London. Any day now, Harry would be arriving to bring her home. He hadn't come yet, but there was still plenty of time. He was usually very punctual, after all. It was Ruth who had always been chronically late.

December brought the first bit of dreary weather. It did not rain, but there was a thick fog and fine mist surrounding the coastline. The tourists dwindled. Rafaela did not bother to put the displays on the sidewalk. Instead, she left them in the window and kept the door shut to keep the moisture away from the books. She still went to church every evening and prayed.

Despite the lack of tourist trade, December did bring a newcomer to Rafaela's shop. A man came in who practically took her breath away. He was the absolute epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. His smile was easy and gentle; joy and laughter were obviously familiar to him. He spoke to Rafaela in slightly broken Italian. She asked if English would be easier, which made him sigh in relief and blush in slight embarrassment.

"I am staying in town for a few weeks. Maybe longer. I have been trying to find where the locals like to go, and everyone I have spoken to told me to come to the bookshop."

"I'm very flattered that my neighbors think so highly of me," Rafaela told the man, feeling her face grow warm. "What brings you to Vernazza?"

"A holiday of sorts. I am from Cyprus, actually. My cousin lives up in the hills outside of the main town, away from the tourists, as she says. Her husband works for an oil company and must travel for work, and she is pregnant, and I am a doctor, so she asked if I could stay with her while her husband is away, in case anything goes wrong. She is in good health, so I don't have to do much," the man explained.

"What a very lovely thing to do for your cousin. I hope she and her baby remain in good health through her pregnancy," she replied kindly.

He held out his hand. "My name is George."

"Rafaela," she answered, shaking his hand. "It is very nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is very much mine," George said. He bowed his head and gallantly kissed her hand.

George then asked for a recommendation for a book that could help him learn better Italian. Rafaela busied herself finding a few that might help him. He paid for all three that she found and wished her a goodnight. Rafaela could not stop smiling.

When Ruth took a deep breath of the night air from the balcony of her flat, she let Rafaela fall away. Ruth was flattered by the attention, certainly. Quite the charmer, that George. A man like that would have never given Ruth Evershed a second look. But Rafaela Lombardi was blonde and friendly and smiling. It made sense that she would attract a handsome doctor like George. But Ruth still went to bed looking at the calendar to see how close she was to two months since she'd had to leave home, wondering when—and frankly, _if_ —Harry would come for her.

Every day for two weeks, George came by the bookshop to see Rafaela. He told her of the progress he'd made in the books she'd given him. She asked him all about his home in Cyprus and his medical practice in the city of Polis. She enjoyed speaking with him and having the attentions of this charming man.

And at the end of two weeks, he finally asked her, "Rafaela, would you like to have dinner with me on Friday? As much as I enjoy talking to you in your shop, I think it would be nicer to take you out."

Oh he was so very charming! Rafaela was still surprised at his interest in her, but was supremely pleased by it. But lurking far too closely to the surface beneath Rafaela was Ruth, begging to run away. "I don't know…" Rafaela said, faltering slightly from her normally confident and friendly demeanor. "Can I give you my answer tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yes, that would be fine. I hope that my interest in taking you on a date is not a surprise. I would like to get to know you better," he told her, his tone and expression showing his genuine sincerity.

Rafaela just nodded, unsure of what to say. George wished her a pleasant night. And after quickly closing up the shop, she rushed out to the church and prayed for guidance.

No one would have ever known, seeing Rafaela in the church every night, that she wasn't a very pious Catholic. No one would have ever known that it was Ruth sitting on that pew, communing with Harry a thousand miles away, fantasizing that she could speak to him and he could answer her back. She would silently ask him when she would see him, she would remind him that she loved him, she would tell him how much she missed him, she would say how she ached for him deep in her soul. Ruth realized she was becoming extremely melodramatic, but every day past the two months Harry had promised made her die a little bit more inside. It had been nine weeks, now. Christmas was nearly upon them, and she would be spending it alone in Italy where no one knew her real name.

Ruth started to wonder if her hope was just a bit foolish, now. If Harry had not yet been able to clear her name and bring her home, would he ever? Was she doomed to be Rafaela Lombardi for the rest of her life? And if so, should she try to start getting used to it?

When Rafaela opened her shop the next morning, she decided that she would commit to her life in Vernazza. For the time being, at least. She would stop thinking of Rafaela as the false part of herself. Rafaela was who she would be. And Rafaela was very attracted to the lovely Cypriot doctor who had asked her out on a date. When George came to see her that day, she would tell him that she would very much like to go out to dinner with him on Friday.

That had been her plan. That had been what Rafaela had decided. But when George walked through her door, Ruth had somehow escaped and made herself known. As he stood before her, smiling in a hopeful but somewhat nervous manner, Ruth blinked and saw John Fortescue looking at her from beside the fountain, making her feel shy and afraid and so very confused over why it was so bloody difficult to express her feelings to a man.

"George, I'm so sorry," she blurted out.

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" he asked in confusion.

"I can't go out with you."

"Oh. I see."

She put a gentle hand on his arm. "I'd like to explain."

George just nodded.

"I came here because the man I love was in trouble. And he needed to get out of trouble before I can go home to be with him. It has taken a long time. Too long, perhaps. I don't even know, some days, if I even still believe that he will come for me. But I do know that I still love him. And I will always love him. And even though you are so very wonderful, it would not be fair to either of us if I were to agree to go out with you." Ruth spoke those words, vague as they were, and felt nearly sick with guilt. Rafaela should have gone out with the handsome doctor. But it was Ruth's heart that beat in her chest, and it was Ruth whom she could never escape.

Surprisingly, George just smiled. "I understand. I admire your devotion to your beloved. It is my loss and his honor, I am sure. But I suppose it is just as well. I just found out that Chiara's husband will be coming home for Christmas and he will be able to stay until after the baby is born. My cousin will not need me. And that means that I will be able to go home to Polis. I was nervous to tell you, but I am not anymore. I have a son. He is seven years old. His name is Nico. And perhaps before I go, you can help me find a Christmas gift for him?"

Rafaela was glad that he was not hurt. He was kind and charming through her rejection just as he had been since the moment she met him. He was a good man. "I would be happy to help find something for him. What sort of things is he interested in?" she asked.

The two spent some time wandering the shop, trying to decide what Nico would like best. When George finally decided on the historical mystery novel that Rafaela recommended, he paid and thanked her. He kissed her on the cheek, and she never saw him again.

After George left, Rafaela was lonely. And she felt just a little bit foolish. She should have given him a chance, she should have allowed herself to try to find some happiness in Vernazza. Ruth, though, felt relieved. As much as she had felt momentarily infatuated with George—and with John Fortescue—it did not come easily to her to spend time with such men. Harry had always been so easy for her to talk to. Even when it was difficult and frightening to be so very much in love with him, being in his presence had always been a relief. Even if it was foolish for her to try to keep her faith in Harry, Ruthwould not have been herself if she did not wallow in her desperate love for the man she sacrificed her life to protect.


	39. Chapter 39

_Late Winter 2007_

Four months. Four months and one week, to be precise. One hundred thirty days. It had been so long, Ruth even had a little bit of trouble remembering the precise taste of Harry's kiss, the exact way his warm chest felt beneath her cheek, whether his favorite purple tie was a bit more pink or blue.

Was it pointless, she wondered, to hope any longer? To believe that she would ever see Harry again? Ruth was not sure if she was right to doubt him, if she should worry that something terrible had happened, if she should just try to move on with her life, such that it was. Perhaps the foul weather was just getting her down.

It had been gray and quiet in Vernazza for almost a week. The autumn and winter had been very mild with a bit of rain here and there. But now a proper storm was rolling in. She could practically see the clouds approaching from her rooftop balcony. The wind howled through the narrow cobblestone streets and the colorful buildings of the town were shadowed in the dreary sky.

The rain came quickly and roughly, pounding down on the rooftops. Ruth saw a flash of lightning outside her windows as she secured the shutters and the thunder crashed a moment later.

Ruth never liked storms. Some people loved the sound of rain, and in truth, she did enjoy a bit of it when she could be inside and cozy. Storms, however, never interested her. They made her a bit nervous, actually. Though, for Ruth, what in the world _didn't_ make her nervous?

This storm was different, though. For some reason, the thunder and lightning and pouring rain made her anxious, not with worry, but with adrenaline. She felt like the static from the sky was coursing through her veins. She needed to move, needed to do something, needed to get it out. Without a further thought to the intelligence of such a thing, Ruth hurried down the stairs and out the side door of her building to the street outside.

There was no one around, nor should there be. The weather was truly atrocious. Ruth was soaked within seconds, but she didn't care. She rushed through the streets, walking with just barely enough caution to keep from slipping on the old cobblestones. She had no clear direction in mind, no destination to reach. But she just kept walking quickly through the empty Vernazza streets.

All of a sudden, she stopped. After all, she could not go any further. Ruth had somehow ended up on the walls of the Doria Castle, protected by the Belforte bastion right at the entrance to the tiny bay. The waves were enormous, crashing violently against the wall. The salty spray mingled with the torrential rain, but Ruth was already drenched to the bone, it made no difference. The wind bellowed and the thunder clapped over the sea. All she could see was sea and clouds melting into nothingness at the horizon.

With heart pounding and body vibrating, Ruth let out a mighty cry. It was cathartic, more than anything else. No one could hear her over the sound of the storm. She could barely hear herself. The power of the storm gave Ruth power of her own. Never in her life had she ever felt wild rage like this. She had always met disappointment with a sad sort of despondence. Anger was not a typical reaction for her, not like this. But now she could not seem to contain it, and as soon as she let out one sound, the words bubbled up inside her and spilled from her lips.

"Harry!" she shouted. "Where are you!? Why have you left me here? Why won't you bring me home?"

Even as she spoke, she felt the twinge of guilt setline in the pit of her stomach. If she knew her Harry, he was probably—hopefully—missing her desperately. Probably staying up too late, drinking too much, not eating enough. How had the last four months treated him, when she wasn't there to look after him? He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, she knew. And it was precisely for that reason that she needed to leave, to ensure he could stay where he was. But even so, she knew that the weight he carried could be borne better when she was there to hold his hand. He had done it for years before they met, certainly, and he'd do it again. Now, though, she felt responsible for him, for his wellbeing and happiness. After all, this wonderful, terrible man had so thoroughly stolen her heart, and it was the least she could to do want to care for him in return.

Ruth barely realized she was crying; the rain and ocean waves had gotten so much water on her face, what difference did the tears make? But through the lump in her throat, she kept speaking, shouting at Harry across the sea, turning that guilt back into the indignant rage that the storm coaxed inside her. "How dare you let me love you! How dare you give me just a piece of what we might have had before I had to go! Let me be sad and lonely, I know how that feels, to be empty and numb and alone. But you had to let me love you! You had to remind me what it could feel like to be happy! And now you're gone and you're never coming back and everything inside me aches! How can I be happy without you, how will I ever find anyone to love me as you did, to guide me and support me and inspire me? I don't ever want to be in this world without you!" she sobbed.

Somewhere along the way, she had lost her train of thought, and she'd begun screaming at her father instead of Harry. All the hurt from when her father died, leaving her on her own, crashed over her like the waves on the bastion walls. As a little girl, she had cried at his graveside, proclaiming she never wanted to be in the world without him there. Her mother had told her she was being silly and overdramatic as she dragged Ruth away. Strange, how she'd forgotten that until now. The unbearable pain of losing her father felt fresh once again as another man she'd once depended on had left her.

The memory struck Ruth as the lightning jolted through the dark sky. "You promised you wouldn't let me go," she whispered to the Harry Pearce in her mind. She could see his dear face so clearly, lined with the regrets of his past, his eyes weary from loss, his lips perpetually pouting at the inevitable injustice of it all. "Harry, you promised you wouldn't let me go, but you did! You let me go, you've left me here, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do! I can't keep waiting for you forever, but I haven't got a choice! I can't let you go, Harry. I can't. But I don't know how to go on."

Ruth's legs turned to jelly beneath her, and she collapsed onto the ground to bury her face in her hands and cry. Crumpled there in the gravel amidst the old castle, Ruth wept as the storm continued around her, undeterred by her anguish.


	40. Chapter 40

_Spring 2007_

She hummed Happy Birthday to herself as she made the bed that morning. In the flat by herself was the only place Ruth could celebrate her birthday, after all. She was thirty-seven years old. And all alone. The only people who would have known it was her birthday were a thousand miles away, back home in England.

Ruth chided herself. England wasn't home anymore. And her name wasn't Ruth. And it wasn't really her birthday. Rafaela Lombardi would turn thirty-seven in July. She had friends and neighbors in Vernazza who would probably throw her a little party, make a beautiful seafood dinner for her and give her lovely baubles to show their affection for her. Even after the change in her that had been brought by their terrible storm two months before, the friends Rafaela had made in town still liked her

Yes, there had been quite a change in her after Ruth had succumbed to her grief over losing Harry and losing herself. Rafaela and Ruth became closer to the same person. After all, if she was going to have to live as Rafaela for the rest of her life, she wouldn't be able to keep up such a charade. Rafaela was quieter now. A bit more awkward than she'd been before. Ruth peeked through the veneer a little more than before. It was the only way she could survive, she knew.

But for now, all alone, she'd let herself acknowledge her own birthday. There would be no sweet gift from Harry hidden in her desk. There would be no invitation to a romantic dinner, no glorious lovemaking afterwards, no celebration of any kind.

Most days, now, Ruth did not allow any thought of Harry. It just broke her heart over and over again. She missed him so much sometimes that she could barely breathe. Was this perhaps what they meant with 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'? That the longer she was away from the man she loved, the more desperately she wanted him? That being apart had somehow twisted her love into so much more than she'd ever truly felt for him? Sometimes Ruth wondered if she ever even loved him at all, or if their entire relationship was fabricated from her lonely, yearning heart.

But enough of that for now. It was her birthday, even if she was the only one who knew it. Rafaela would smile more today. She would charm the customers and perhaps close the shop a bit early to take herself out to a nice dinner. She would look out over the water and breathe in the ocean air and enjoy the day.

Rafaela did just that. The day was full of sunshine and a light breeze off the ocean. She bought some flowers to put in a vase on the counter inside her shop, delighting in the joy the lovely color brought to the customers. A family came in to buy some souvenirs with their children, and Rafaela enjoyed getting to use her accented English to speak with the Americans. The little girl—only five years old, the mother said—told Rafaela she had pretty hair. So much laughter and happiness that day.

She closed up shop at six, went to church as always, and wandered the streets of Vernazza. The days were growing longer, finally, and the sun was just starting to set as she took a seat at the restaurant she chose. She got herself a salad and pasta and fish and a bottle of wine and a dessert. She indulged in her good mood. She treated herself to wonderful things.

But even amidst Rafaela's happiness, Ruth should have known better. Ruth should have known that nothing good can ever last. Ruth should have known that her joy would be ripped away from her once again.

It was late by the time she returned to her flat. Normally, after closing up for the night, Rafaela did not go to the store again. She would enter the side door to the building and go up the four flights of stairs to her top floor flat. But a noise alerted her. The spook senses that had thus far kept Ruth alive were tingling. Something was amiss in the shop.

She rounded the corner carefully. And sure enough, there was a small beam of light coming from inside. The lock on the door was tampered with, the doorknob smashed and littering the ground out front. Foolishly, Ruth went to see what was going on.

"Chi è là? Cosa stai facendo?" she demanded. Who's there? What are you doing?

Two men looked up startled. The smaller of the two gestured to the larger, who immediately rushed at Ruth and grabbed her arm. When she screamed in surprise, she received a mighty blow to her face. Her cheek and jaw stung, and she was startled into silence.

The big man threw her against one of the bookshelves. Ruth whimpered.

"Dov'è il resto del denaro?" the smaller man snarled. Where is the rest of the money?

Ruth knew that she could not fight these men off. She had no weapon of any kind, she was outnumbered, and she was outpowered. This entire situation could get very, very bad for her. The best she could hope for was to cooperate. Perhaps if she let these men rob her, they would leave her relatively unscathed. If she fought, she would likely pay for it.

The man did not appreciate her hesitation. He gestured to the bigger man again, whose grip was so tight on her arm that she feared he would crack the bone. "Dov'è il resto del denaro?" he demanded.

With a shaky hand, she pointed to the cabinet behind the cashier counter. Inside was a safe where she kept her days proceeds before she took it all to the bank at the end of each week. She had just gone to the bank two days before, so thankfully there wasn't much in there.

"La combinazione!" the smaller man ordered, asking for the combination.

The lump in Ruth's throat overtook her and she began to cry as she gave the numbers in Italian. The safe opened a second later and about a thousand euros got swept into a bag.

"Grazie, signora," the man thanked with a weaselly sort of smile. He gestured once more to his larger companion who threw Ruth once again, this time into the cashier counter. She got the wind knocked out of her and, if she wasn't mistaken, had likely cracked a rib or two on the impact. The vase of flowers she'd set there that morning tumbled to the floor and shattered.

The men had gone, thankfully. Ruth crumpled amidst the water and broken glass and ruined flowers, and she cried, though not as much as she might have wanted to. Each breath was absolute agony. But she could not remain there all night. She would need to get herself back up to her flat, clean up and tend to her wounds, and formulate a plan to deal with the robbery.

Getting back up the stairs was quite difficult, what with being sore and scared and barely able to breathe. But Ruth made it back to her flat and into a hot shower. Luckily, she wasn't bleeding anywhere. She would likely have quite a few bad bruises in the morning, on her face and arm and ribs. But Ruth knew she'd gotten off lucky. Those men could have done much worse to her, she knew. And the money wasn't so much gone that she would be unable to recover.

Yes, everything would be fine. She would get up early and clean up the shop. She'd make no police report—a person with a fake identity should not involve the authorities if at all possible—and she could get the local handyman to repair the door for her. She would move on from this. Rafaela would be just fine.

As she lay in her bed that night, Ruth saw that it was two minutes from midnight. Two minutes left in the day. She closed her eyes and whispered, "Happy birthday, Ruth."


	41. Chapter 41

Harry felt numb with grief as Ruth told the story of her time in Italy, her time away from him. He held Penny tighter in his arms to keep his pain to himself. After all, this was Ruth's part of the story. His own longing for her and desperation to get her back paled in comparison to her suffering during her exile. And he'd had no idea. Harry knew, of course, that she had not enjoyed her time alone; she had told him that much. But the depth of her anguish was something she had kept to herself until now.

"Ruth," he croaked.

She paused her tale and looked up at him, seeing the torment all over his face. "Yes, Harry?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "You never told me all of that. What it was like for you."

Ruth gave a sad smile. "I know. When we could finally be together again, I didn't want to ruin it with all the unhappiness," she explained.

Penny turned her little head to look at Harry. "But you did get to be together again, right?" she asked him with great concern.

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "We're together now, aren't we?"

It seemed Penny had forgotten about that. She broke into a beautiful smile. "Yes!"

Ruth laughed at the child's innocent joy. "Harry and I were apart a lot longer than we expected to be, certainly, but we did find our way back to each other. Didn't we, Harry?"

"Yes, thank god, we did."

"So I think you ought to take the story back now, since I was in Italy waiting around and not knowing what to do or what was going on, and you were in London making everything happen," Ruth noted.

Penny swiveled around from looking at Ruth to looking back at Harry. "How did you make it happen? How did you get back together?"

Before Harry could answer, Ruth beckoned for Penny. "Come sit here on the sofa with me, lovie. That way you don't hurt your neck turning your head 'round like that."

That seemed to be a good idea to Penny. Harry released her from his arms, and she hopped off his lap to go snuggle up with Ruth. There was a look on Ruth's face that Harry felt clear through his heart. He ached to see them together, sometimes. Ruth's love for Penny was indescribable and it was sometimes more than Harry could possibly bear.

But it was time to go on with the story now. He cleared his throat and shifted in his armchair. "Alright, so the last we talked about on my end was Ros working as a double agent for Yalta."

"I always thought Ros would make a really good double agent. Or else a really bad one, depending on how you look at it. You'd never know whose side she was really on," Ruth scoffed.

"Yes, well, that's precisely why Ros Myers is quite possibly the finest officer I've ever worked with. Even if I'm the only one who has that opinion," Harry added darkly.

"What happened?" Penny demanded, clearly not appreciating the commentary without context.

"Ros did a remarkable job with Yalta. They were going to topple the American satellite network and she was able to get word to Adam and me and Malcolm to stop it. The problem was, the Home Secretary didn't seem to like that I didn't properly document that Ros was a double agent."

Penny's eyes went wide. "Did you get in trouble?"

"We all got in trouble. My whole team and I were suspended while Section D was investigated. We weren't allowed inside Thames House. Jo and Zaf went off doing whatever it is young people like to do. Adam was going to go see Wes at his boarding school in the country. Ros went skulking off to do whatever mysterious things she did in her free time. And the old guard—that's me, Malcolm, and Connie—we went to the pub."


	42. Chapter 42

_Late Spring 2007_

Connie came to the table where Malcolm and Harry were waiting with her G&T, but the look on her face was nothing short of horror. "What's happened?" Harry asked immediately.

"Davie King. Harry, he's got a bomb somewhere in London and he wants the whole team to be there or else he'll detonate at random." She put a burner phone on the table. "He'll contact you on this."

Harry let off a stream of curses under his breath. Malcolm sat beside him properly stunned by this abrupt change in events. Connie just waited for the initial reactions to die down.

After a moment, Harry exhaled slowly and calmed himself down. "Right. I'm going to inform the Home Secretary, get us all reinstated so we can handle this properly." They all left the pub and Harry found a quiet corner of the street to make the call. He explained the situation to Blake and made the request.

But the Home Secretary had other thoughts in the matter. "I will not have you go off on your own and run a rogue operation, Harry!" he ordered. "You will give my office the information and you will go to ground!"

At that point, there was nothing for Harry to do but hang up on him. "Sunstrike protocol," he informed Connie and Malcolm. "Redflash the team. Let's get everyone coordinated."

Connie regarded Harry closely. "What's that look on your face? What are you thinking?"

"This isn't a coincidence," he said in quiet, harsh realization.

"How so?"

Harry spoke and walked very quickly toward his old safehouse as he answered Connie. "Davie King shouldn't be allowed anywhere near this country. If he got in, it's because someone very powerful brought him here. And he shows up to threaten us when we happened to be suspended from duty?"

"Don't tell me…"

"Oliver Mace is behind this," Harry announced.

Connie rolled her eyes. "I know you're convinced that Mace has it in for you, particularly after what happened to Ruth, but you have absolutely no proof that Mace has anything to do with this."

"I know Oliver, Connie. I know what he's capable of."

"You're acting like an utter lunatic!"

It was Malcolm who interceded. "But if it's not Mace, then who? Because Harry's right, it would take someone rather high up to be able to bring King into England. You yourself set up the restrictions on him, Connie."

"There are other possibilities besides Mace," she pointed out. "Bob Hogan, for example. He's not been your biggest fan since Yalta, Harry."

"We prevented the damage."

"Not before the CIA got hacked by a computer game!"

"This isn't Bob Hogan. It's Mace. I'm sure of it," Harry insisted.

Connie huffed in annoyance. "You're being obstinate. And if you won't do the due diligence, I'll do it myself." And with that, she turned and began walking very quickly in the other direction.

"Where's she going?" Malcolm asked, pausing to look after her.

Harry didn't stop. "Let her satisfy herself. She knows where to find us."

When they arrived at the safe house, Adam was waiting for them. Zaf and Jo turned the corner just opposite Harry and Malcolm. Harry went to the door and let them all in, disabling his security protocols. "Where's Ros?" he asked, once they were all inside.

"Couldn't get a response from her. But you know what she's like, used to going off on her own nowadays," Adam replied.

Harry sighed heavily and sat down on the cot in the corner.

"What is this place?" Jo asked, looking around at the dust-covered relics.

"Decommissioned safehouse. It's mine, actually, saved for occasions such as this. When I have to hide somewhere convenient," Harry told her.

"Right, we've got a Smith & Wesson revolver that's missing a firing pin, and an old cassette of Led Zeppelin IV," Malcolm announced, putting his laptop on the desk and rifling through everything to see if there was anything useful to be found.

Harry reached for the cassette. "I've been looking for that."

Despite the overall mood, Zaf grinned. "You a Zeppelin fan, Harry?"

"Unlike you, I saw them in concert. Back before John Bonham died."

"Wouldn't have pegged you for a cool rocker," Zaf teased.

"Wouldn't have pegged you for a bloke with a death wish," Harry fired back, tossing the broken handgun at him. Zaf just laughed.

Harry chose to move on. "Anyway, while we're waiting for Ros to possibly show up or not and while Connie's off wasting time, I'll brief you on what we know so far. Long and short of it is that thanks to me—and Connie, I suppose—we're all being rather cleverly hunted."

"Hunted?!" Jo exclaimed.

"There's an Irish madman with a car bomb somewhere in London who wants to be sure that my whole team is present for it to go off or he'll detonate it randomly," Harry explained. He then launched into the whole sorry tale, how he and Connie had recruited King as their man in the IRA, how she had taught him how to make bombs to begin with, how he'd gone off mad and killing indiscriminately, and how Harry had given the order to have King's father framed as an British informant. "And after his father was thrown naked and maimed into the street to set an example, I became Davie King's personal vendetta. But the war ended and he went to ground and we all came back home." Harry sighed, ashamed to this day over the things he'd had to do in Ireland. "He sends me a Christmas card every year. Puts a smiley face next to my name."

Before anyone could respond to the distressing tale, the security system alerted to a visitor. Malcolm pulled up the CCTV on his laptop. "It's Connie. Shall I let her in?"

"Yes, she's apt to get cross if we leave her out there," Harry replied facetiously.

Connie barged into the room, shrugged off her coat, and tossed her handbag onto the cot beside where Harry was still sitting. "I really hate when you're right, but you know I had to be sure," she stated, not bothering to explain.

Harry had to keep himself from smiling. "And how is Bob?"

"Didn't really appreciate me asking him questions with a gun pointed at him, but he was genial enough. I thanked him for his time and came right back here. Davie knows me. I'm not going to spend my time out on the streets."

"That decides it," Harry said with a nod. "Oliver Mace is behind this. He would know our background with King, and he'd have the authority to be able to get him here. Typical of Oliver, getting a madman to do his dirty work."

"Harry, I think I can try to find the car, but I'll need to borrow a public ISP," Malcolm offered, placing his hand on his laptop.

"Take Zaf with you and be careful," Harry instructed. "Call when you've found it." The two men left the safehouse to find a café with a wireless internet connection. "And I suppose the rest of us ought to just wait for instruction," he added in slight defeat, staring at the mobile that Davie had given him.

"Any word from Ros?" Jo asked.

Connie was the one who smiled. "Oh she's fine. Don't worry about her."

Harry gave her a questioning look, but Connie said nothing. Harry nodded. So Connie had a plan. She usually did.

Adam broke the silence that followed. "Harry, if we can, we'll have to take King alive. If Mace is behind this, we'll need King to tell us. If we can bring down Oliver Mace, that means…"

"Yes, I know." Harry was trying his very best not to hope, but it almost seemed like they might have a chance to get to Mace and if they could, they could bring Ruth home.

"We'll get her back. I know it's been far too long, but we'll get her back," Adam said quietly. He laughed lightly and added, "I got a letter from Wes at school the other day. Wanted me to give his love to Uncle Harry and Auntie Ruth, if she's back home."

All Harry could do was give a tight smile in response. Davie King was far too dangerous for Harry to believe that they could all live through this nightmare, that things would work out as they wanted.

Harry's mobile rang. He answered and put it on speakerphone. "Yes, Malcolm?"

"I've found the car. It's an old London cab, same as the license plate from the Cookstown bomb. Cab bought at auction two days ago."

"Old IRA tactic, that," Connie said knowingly.

"Malcolm, where's the car now?"

"I don't know. I can't find it on CCTV, there's not enough time to run the algorithm through the whole city."

"That's alright, Malcolm. You and Zaf just get back here. I don't like having us separated."

"What about Ros?" Malcolm asked.

"Don't worry about Ros," Connie stated cryptically. Harry really hated when she did things like that, but he trusted she had things in hand. And knowing he could trust her was everything.

It only took another ten minutes from the time Zaf and Malcolm returned with everyone quietly stewing in the dingy flat before the mobile from Davie rang. Harry answered it immediately and was given a flurry of instructions. The entire team to be unarmed within three feet of the car at the appointed time, and they'd have thirty seconds to evacuate civilians. Any police presence or other rule breaking and Davie would detonate without warning. Harry agreed and demanded to know where and when they were to appear.

"Gabriel Plaza. Two o'clock." And with that, Davie hung up.

Malcolm had a map of the city and found the location. There were no vantage points for them, no way to know where Davie would be hiding, no way to make a plan. And certainly not enough time.

"I think we'd better make peace with our various gods," Harry announced resignedly as a silence fell upon the collective realization that there was no way out. He stood up and led his team out. He did his best to stand tall, to walk with his shoulders squared, to be a strength to his officers in what had a good chance of being their last moments on this earth.

"Harry," Connie called, stopping his march to certain death. "Take Jo and Zaf in a taxi to this address. I'll take Malcolm and Adam to Gabriel Plaza to plan as best we can. You can meet us there. And I know you don't like to, but please try to just follow instructions without a fuss."

In some dark, awful way, Harry wanted to laugh. Leave it to Connie, never doubt Connie, always trust Connie. Harry had learned those lessons long ago and knew better than to think he knew better. Somehow, she was going to get them out of this. Perhaps they'd all live to see another day.

An hour later, they were all standing beside the old London cab. The mobile rang again. Davie giving them the opportunity to evacuate the plaza. Harry nodded and Adam began shouting for everyone to clear the area, saying there was a bomb threat.

In the chaos and shouting, Ros appeared with a carryall, passing it to Connie behind the car and hurrying away like a ghost. Just as they'd planned. Malcolm had his laptop, using the CCTV feed to rewind and find which building Davie had entered. Connie opened the boot of the car to find the bomb. She used the scrambler to prevent Davie's remote detonation and gave Adam the tools to disarm the timer mechanism, clipping the wire with ten seconds to spare.

"It's done," Adam announced, exhaling in relief. "Malcolm, have you found him?"

"Not yet!" he replied, the stress evident in his voice. And one tense second later, Malcolm shouted in triumph. "There! North building, across the way!"

"Zaf, Jo, get going," Harry instructed. Now that the bomb was neutralized, they had to get to Davie before he could disappear. But the building was enormous, they would need to know where exactly to send Zaf and Jo to apprehend King.

In order to cause a distraction, Harry stepped out from behind the car with his arms out, presenting a clear target. He was the one King wanted, after all. He was the proper bait. King could do what he wanted to Harry, leaving the others free to find him.

A flurry of bullets sounded. But before Harry knew what was happening, he was tackled to the ground. A second later, Harry was shot. He was dragged back behind the car.

"Harry, what were you thinking!?" Adam scolded breathlessly.

"Causing a diversion so Zaf and Jo and Ros can go get him!" he choked out.

"I've found him," Malcolm announced. Harry overheard him call Ros to give her the location of the window Davie was shooting from.

Meanwhile, Adam was still fussing over Harry. The pain was excruciating. He pushed Adam off him and pulled open his shirt to see where the spent bullet hit his Kevlar vest.

"Where did you get that?" Adam asked incredulously.

"Ros. Connie sent me to coordinate with her before we arrived here. That was the plan. Didn't she tell you?"

"No, she was busy teaching me how to disarm an IRA car bomb. But are you alright?" he asked with concern.

"Only hurts when I breathe," Harry grunted.

"So don't breathe," Adam answered with that signature teasing grin.

Connie was sitting beside them and looked over to roll her eyes at men being silly, but something caught her eye and she gasped, "Oh my god, Adam!"

Adam looked down and saw that he was bleeding. Badly. He'd been so focused on the adrenaline of saving Harry that he hadn't even noticed that he'd gotten a bullet to the belly. Harry hadn't seen it from where he was lying, but he scrambled up to force Adam to lie down. There was a veritable stream of blood pouring from the wound. Sniper rifles tend to do damage like that, in Harry's experience.

He felt the icy grip of impending death surround him. It was a feeling Harry knew far too well. He'd seen so many men die, so many good officers perish at his orders. Though this was the first to expire from trying to save his life. Because Harry knew as soon as he saw that blood, just as Connie had: Adam was going to die.

Now that reality had caught up to him, Adam was choking and grimacing with the pain of it. Harry tried to put pressure on the wound to slow the bleeding while holding Adam steady. Connie was calling for an ambulance, but they both knew it wouldn't arrive in time. Malcolm was busy coordinating with the rest of the team. King still needed to be captured. None of this was worth anything if he got away.

"Christ, Adam, what were you thinking? Even if I wasn't wearing a vest, that was stupid of you," Harry lamented.

"You've gotta be here, Harry," Adam replied simply.

"So do you. Wes needs you." Tears pricked Harry's eyes at the thought of that little boy becoming an orphan. "You promised Fiona."

Adam shook his head, gasping in pain as he did so. "You knew this was coming, Harry. After Fi, it was only a matter of time for me. Wes has his grandparents. And he's going to need his Uncle Harry and his Auntie Ruth."

"He needs _you_ , Adam. We all do," Harry insisted. His voice was catching in his throat.

The bleeding was still going fast, and Adam was growing pale. He was struggling to breathe now. He opened his mouth to say something more to Harry, but he never got the words out. His eyes fell shut and his mouth just hung open as his head fell to the side, still cradled in Harry's hand.


	43. Chapter 43

_Late Spring 2007_

Harry could hardly form coherent thoughts. His heart was pounding in his ears. He couldn't take a breath thanks to the force of the bullet against the vest. He couldn't move because his hands were covered in Adam's blood. Distantly, he heard someone call his name.

He turned. Connie was looking at him quite angrily. "Pay attention! Grieve later!" she scolded.

Sufficiently shaken back to the task at hand, Harry took the mobile that Malcolm handed him. It got sticky from the blood. "Yes?"

It was Ros. "Harry, we've got King. He had an accomplice, but Zaf killed him."

"I need Davie King unconscious and in the boot of a car as soon as possible. The police are going to swarm the area and I'll need him to be stashed before I can get away."

"Can't Adam handle the plods?"

"We lost Adam," he told her flatly.

"Right," she replied coldly.

"Meet me in the back alley." Harry hung up and turned to Connie. "I need the clean rooms."

"You know I can't do that," she told him.

A white-hot rage coursed through Harry. "It is your bloody fault that Adam Carter is dead and I have no Section Chief to take control of the scene. You will give me your bloody clean rooms!" he ordered.

"My fault? How is his stupidity my fault?"

"He wouldn't have leapt out to take a bullet for me if you had told him I'd be wearing the vest," he snarled.

"Harry…"

"This is not a request!"

With an incredibly sour look on her face, Connie reached into her pocket for her keys and removed three from the ring. "I assume you don't need further instruction?"

He nodded curtly. "Malcolm and Ros are coming with me. Jo and Zaf and you can handle things here. Under no circumstances will anyone know where I am."

Connie and Malcolm both quietly agreed. Harry got up and wiped his hands as best he could. The two men hurried off to meet Ros with the car. Connie waited with Adam's body for Zaf and Jo to join her.

Two hours later, Harry was cleaned up and had regained his self-control. He paced back and forth in one of the rooms underneath the bunker of Connie's country home. When the Service set her out to pasture—at Harry's command—she had been given the estate to look after; Five didn't like leaving their old nuclear labs completely abandoned.

Harry paced back and forth. He glanced up at the camera and microphone that Malcolm had mounted in the corner. It would have been just as easy for something undetectable to be quickly installed, but Harry wanted his subjects to know they were being recorded. Ros had retreated from the room at his request, watching the monitor with Malcolm. And Harry was left alone with Davie King, who was tied up and seated in a metal chair and just starting to come-to.

"Is that you, Harry?"

He smiled. It had begun. "Hello, Davie. Nice to have you here. Enjoying your time in England, are you?"

Davie spit in disgust.

"I figured as much," Harry replied flippantly. "Now, we can do this one of two ways. Either I can torture you like I arranged for your father and you can know what he experienced all those years ago thanks to my orders. Or you can tell me what I want to know and I don't have to lift a finger. You remember that, don't you, Davie? Doing what you're told when I ask? You never were very good at it, but you had your useful moments. So what'll it be, poetic symmetry, like father like son? Or rolling over like the dog you are?"

"Just kill me and be done with it," King growled.

"Oh that's where you're wrong. I won't be killing you. No, you're going to pay for your crimes and live a long life in prison. But you can decide whether or not you do it with all your fingers still attached to your hand."

A flicker of fear showed in King's face. He glanced up at the camera. "That thing on?"

"Of course. I don't want people taking my word for what you tell me here. It'll be recorded in a clear, color picture with film-quality sound. Amazing the things technology can do nowadays."

"What do you want, Harry?"

He smiled in spite of himself. "Tell me how you came to London. Who brought you here and why?"

"Lovely gentleman by the name of Oliver Mace."

Harry nearly burst out laughing. It was almost too easy. "Oh? And what did Oliver Mace say to you?"

"Told me we had a common goal of eliminating a common enemy. You."

"Yes, that would be Oliver's point of view. So he arranged for you enter the country?"

"No, actually. I only worked with Mace after I got here. My papers and transport were taken care of on direct orders from someone else."

"Who?"

"Nicholas Blake."

Now that was a surprise. "Do you actually expect me to believe that the Home Secretary personally arranged for a known Irish terrorist to enter England?"

"Believe what you want, Harry. It's the truth."

And inexplicably, Harry knew that it was. But no use dwelling on that detail now. "What was the plan for after you killed me? What was Mace going to do then?"

"Apparently arrange for a full pardon for me. And I was free to go back to Ireland. Don't want to stay here anyway. If I could've killed you and Connie, I'd have finally been at peace."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Harry scoffed.

He exhaled, releasing some of the tension from the day. Not all of it, certainly. Everything else was safely bottled up with his self-control and self-denial. Things to examine later. For now, he was only halfway done with his task.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Davie. You always did have a remarkable sense of self-preservation, and I'm glad we could use it in my favor today. I'm finished with you now. My officer will be sedating you again and we'll transport you to the prison facility where you belong."

"Locking me up without a trial? How very English."

"Oh no, you'll be tried for your crimes. Don't you worry about that, Davie," Harry assured him.

And with that, he left the room. Ros was waiting in the hallway. "That was easy."

"Sometimes things have a tendency to work out."

"Since when?" she replied incredulously.

"Since right now, apparently. But you go put him out and then coordinate with Zaf and Jo to get Mace."

"Get him where?"

"Here. We are ending this once and for all."

Ros nodded in understanding. Harry had every confidence she'd take care of it. After all, she was Section Chief now.

Harry went out to check with Malcolm. "Everything set?" he asked.

"Yes, King's confession and accusations of Mace and Blake are properly recorded and saved," Malcolm assured him. "And the camera in the other room is all ready as well. Will we need a third room for the Home Secretary?"

"No, him I'll deal with later. For now, I'm going to take my satisfaction with Oliver."

"You know, I don't like the violence of what we do—what you do, actually, since I'm not the one doing it—but in this case, I don't think I really mind. For what he's done to you? It's the least he deserves."

Harry was suddenly reminded of Malcolm's emotional outburst at Colin's death, his anger over the injustice of it all. This wasn't like that. This was calm and calculated, practically pleased over the thought of a violent end to Oliver Mace. "Yes, well, I've got something rather specific in mind."

"Good," Malcolm replied resolutely.

And with that, Harry went to the room they'd set up for Mace and waited for his revenge to be delivered.

Ros had done well. She and Zaf had very easily overpowered Mace and kidnapped him. But unlike with King, there was no syringe to silence him. No, Oliver Mace got the delightful treatment of being zip-tied and gagged and shoved in the back of a car with a bag over his head. He was well and properly agitated by the time he was deposited into the cold metal chair in the blank room that awaited him.

Harry listened to the muffled yells and watched the frightened twitches of the great slimy brute seated before him. He silently waited for Mace to settle. As soon as he did, Harry removed the bag and ripped off the gag.

"Good afternoon, Oliver. Thank you for joining me," Harry greeted coldly.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?!"

"Well, you might have noticed that there was no car bomb that exploded and killed me today. Nor was I shot and killed by a sniper from a nearby window. Nor was Davie King apprehended by the authorities. So what you might take that to mean, Oliver, is that I have won and you have sorely lost."

"This is absurd!" Mace shouted.

"No, I don't think it is. I think this is finally, after all this time, exactly what is supposed to happen. Justice, I think." Harry kept his voice steady and calm. Self-control, self-denial. For now, anyway.

"So what are you going to do to me?"

"Well first, we're going to have a chat. You're going to tell me all the things I want to hear you admit. And that camera is going to record it all. And then, after that, I am going to do exactly what I've always wanted to do with you."

"Then why should I tell you anything?" Mace was getting that slimy, toad-like grin on his face, the one he had when he thought he'd gotten one over.

"Because if you don't, you'll sorely wish you had," Harry replied, tone so quiet as to be more menacing than if he'd shouted.

"Is that a threat?" Mace scoffed.

"Yes."

"You won't get away with this, Harry," Mace assured with misguided self-righteousness.

Now it was Harry's turn to show a bit of bravado. "Actually, I rather think I will. Because you see, Oliver, I might not be too incredibly popular with the politicians and such, but everyone who matters, from Downing Street to Buckingham Palace to all of Whitehall, knows the difference between you and me. And they like me better."

"Your entire section has been suspended!"

"Yes, but that won't last for long, will it? Not when it's revealed that you were behind King's attack. You know, Adam Carter was killed today. Even if we disarmed the bomb and no civilians were injured, there is a murder to be accounted for." Harry felt the self-control slip just a bit there. His father's Yorkshire accent slipped through him a bit when he tried to mask his anger.

"King got away. You've got no proof." Mace was grasping at the last straws he could find, now.

Harry couldn't help a small smile. "Is that so? Or do I have him tied up in the next room? And did he already tell me every detail of your instructions to him to have me eliminated?"

Finally, Mace seemed to see where the chips had fallen. "What do you want me to say?"

"Three things, Oliver. I only need you to explain three things."

"Go on," he allowed resignedly.

"First, what was the source of the torture orders filed with my signature that were discovered seven months ago?"

Mace scowled. "It all goes back to that, doesn't it?"

Self-control, self-denial. "Well, we are going to go chronologically, if you don't mind."

"I couldn't believe you wormed your way out of that," Mace sneered.

"You didn't count on Ruth Evershed." Harry had to allow a bit of pride in her.

"That was rather convenient for me, actually."

Harry pressed with impatience, "Take it as you must, Oliver, but the truth now, if you don't mind."

"While Juliet had her head turned the other way, I ensured that your suspects were dealt with in the manner most helpful to the United Kingdom."

"By sending them overseas to be tortured for information?"

"Enhanced interrogation, it's called."

"It's bloody torture."

"Yes, of course it is."

"And it's treason to order it."

"It was for the good of the nation."

"But that was you who ordered it?" Harry asked, finally cutting to the chase.  
Mace practically rolled his eyes. "You know it was. And we saved lives by doing what we did. We got valuable information that's saved this country," he insisted.

Harry shook his head and asked incredulously, "What's the point of saving a country that resorts to atrocities like that?"

"That's your opinion," Mace jeered. "But when I took over JIC, I needed to cover my tracks in case you started digging, as I knew you wanted to. I had a forger study your signature and replicate it on all the orders I destroyed of my own and replaced with yours."

"And Sally Bernard?"

"Paid for her false information with funds I have stored in the Cayman Islands," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Wonderful," was Harry's sarcastic response.

"Is that all?"

"No, that's the first of three."

Mace sighed. For a man who was about to die, he certainly seemed eager to get on with it. "And what's the second?"

"Davie King. How did you get him?"

"By using you as an incentive. He came up with the entire plan on his own. I merely provided the funding he required to get the job done."

That was simple enough. Harry had Davie, he didn't need Mace to confirm anything more than that. "And the final question: how did Davie King get into this country?"

"I informed the Home Secretary that your treason had gone on enough, between the torture orders and that business with Yalta, and he agreed to let me handle it. Signed every single order I needed to override the customs and immigration blocks set on King."

"Blake knew?" Harry still could not quite bring himself to believe it. Nicholas Blake was a politician through and through, but Harry had hoped he was one of the good ones. He nearly liked the fellow.

"He knew you'd be taken out in a staged terrorist plot," Mace explained. "I promised you'd look like you were trying to play hero, wouldn't make the Service lose face. But you just had to bloody live, didn't you?"

"Yes, I've got things to do," Harry told him flippantly.

"Is that all, then?"

"For the questions, yes." He turned to the camera. "That's all, Malcolm. You can put Ros on standby."

The red light on the camera went off. Harry was well and truly alone with Oliver Mace now. No more self-control and no more self-denial.

Harry turned back to Mace and without any warning whatsoever, he landed a powerful right hook against the man's jaw. He could feel and hear the crack of the bone. Mace shouted out in pain, whimpering over the fracture and spitting out a tooth. The angry beast that had been forced to lie dormant in Harry's belly was awake now. And it wanted blood.

"I want you to know, Oliver, that you are the most reprehensible man I've ever known."

This time he put a swift left jab right on the end of Mace's nose, shattering it, rather than merely breaking it. Mace was left gasping as blood gushed from his nose and mouth.

"You are vile and evil. And for what you've done to the United Kingdom and its government and to all of humanity, you deserve to die. And because of what you've done to me and especially to Ruth Evershed, I am proud to be the one to arrange for your death."

"You going to beat me to death, Harry?" Mace gasped, trying in vain to appear intimidating amidst a pulverized face.

"No, Oliver, I'm not going to do that. You don't deserve a quick death, but I don't deserve the chore of drawing it out. As glad as I'll be to remove your stain off this earth, I refuse to take pleasure in killing you. I'll not stoop to your level."

Harry laid out one more punch for his own satisfaction. And when Oliver Mace sat slumped in that chair, barely conscious, Harry pulled the handgun out of his belt and put a single bullet in the man's brain.

The silence was deafening. Only Harry's panting breaths echoed through the room. His heartrate was racing in his chest. But the beast was quelled. Harry could practically feel it smile and close its eyes in contentment. It was all over now.


	44. Chapter 44

The way Ruth narrowed her eyes at Harry was quite telling. He'd tried to be as appropriate as he could, given their audience, but there wasn't really a way to skate over 'I murdered a man in cold blood' no matter what way you looked at it.

"Did the bad man die?" Penny asked.

"Yes," Harry replied simply. He had explained the conversation he'd had with Oliver Mace and then ended with 'and then we were done talking.'

"How?"

"It doesn't matter how," Ruth said quickly.

Penny frowned, her sweet little face scrunching up a bit. "But I want to know! The bad man made you go away, and you were both so sad, and I want to know how he died!" she whined.

Harry was actually tempted to tell her; clearly his genetics had given her a rather unfortunate interest in the violent and macabre, but Penny's mother would go absolutely bonkers if he did, so he stood firm. "No, darling girl, I don't think it matters how he died. But he did, and we were all better off for it."

"So if he was gone, did you go to Italy so you could be together?"

He hesitated. "Eventually."

"Why not right away?"

"I wasn't allowed," Harry replied.

"But the bad man was gone," Penny reasoned.

Ruth stepped in again. "Well, you'll remember that I did confess to forging torture orders on behalf of a domestic terrorism group. Even if Oliver Mace was out of the picture and stopped from trying to get Harry ousted or killed, I was still a wanted fugitive from the British government. It took a little time for Harry to clear everything up for me."

Penny turned back to Harry. "And then you went to Italy?"

"As soon as I was able," he assured her. "It had been far too long, and I was rather desperate to bring Ruth home."

Ruth herself hummed with slight bemusement.

"What's that for?" he asked her.

"Well I told you what I'd been up to that whole time I was away. And obviously I had no idea what you had to contend with here. But from where I was, it really had been far too long, but it certainly didn't feel like you were desperate to bring me home," she said.

"I know. I know, and I'm sorry."

She smiled softly. "It's all in the past, love."

Harry returned her affectionate gaze.

Penny brought them back to the task at hand. "So what happened after the bad man died?"

"Right, yes. Well, even though Oliver paid for his crimes, there was still the matter of the Home Secretary."

"I sort of liked Nicholas Blake," Ruth interrupted.

"Yes, well, too bad he signed orders to have a madman enter the country to kill me," Harry replied facetiously.

"Yes, too bad," she agreed.

Harry chuckled slightly and continued on with the story.


	45. Chapter 45

_Late Spring 2007_

Harry left his team in charge. They knew what to do. They'd handle it. Harry got in his car and went for a drive. He even turned off his mobile, needing to ensure that he had complete privacy for this. There had been other occasions like this, where Harry had to deliver the news of the death of an officer. He usually did it over the phone, but sometimes he had to do it in person. This one was by far the worst he'd ever had to contemplate.

He stood on the sidelines of the rugby field, watching a beautiful blond boy running and laughing with his mates. But with a sixth sense inherited from his parents, the boy stopped suddenly and turned. He saw Harry and slowly, numbly walked over.

Wes fell into Harry's arms. Harry hugged him tight, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. After a moment, Wes turned his head and asked, "My dad's dead, isn't he?"

"Yes," Harry replied.

Little Wes buried his face in Harry's coat again. Harry just held him there for as long as the boy wanted.

It took a bit of time for Harry to contact Fiona's parents to make sure they could take full legal custody of Wes, to ensure that the headmaster of the school was informed of what had happened, to be there for whatever Wes would need. The boy didn't even cry. Perhaps he'd been preparing himself for this very thing since the day he learned his mother had died.

"Do we have to have a funeral?" Wes asked quietly as Harry sat with him on top of the bed in his dormitory.

"Don't you want one? It's a good way to say goodbye, to celebrate his life."

"I don't like funerals. I don't want a lot of people about," Wes confided.

A very wise boy, he was. Harry had a feeling that Adam would have felt similarly. "We can do a little memorial when you're off from school, for the grownups who want to mark the occasion. We don't have to do anything you don't want, though."

"Will you and Auntie Ruth be there?"

"I promise we will," Harry replied.

"Why's she not here now? You both came to stay with me last time," Wes remembered.

"Auntie Ruth had to go away, remember?"

"She's not back yet?"

Harry sighed, "No, not yet. But very soon. I'm going to go get her as soon as I can."

"When?"

"Soon."

Later, when Wes was as settled as he could be and Harry had taken care of things for the time being, he drove back to London and made an immediate appointment with the Home Secretary.

"Harry, where the devil have you been!? Have you heard what's happened?" the Home Secretary asked in a frenzy as the Head of Section D calmly walked into his office.

"Heard what's happened about what?" Harry asked in return, feigning ignorance.

"Oliver Mace was killed!"

Harry had absolutely no reaction. "How did that happen?"

"He was found behind a greengrocer's in Chelsea, beaten rather badly, wallet gone, shot through the head," the HS explained.

"Oh dear."

"Mugging gone bad, it seems."

Harry had to smile. He almost wanted to laugh. He'd told Ros and Zaf to make it look like a mugging, and they'd done a brilliant job. Though the whole ordeal, his officers had all done him very proud indeed. "What a pity," he said quietly.

"I assumed that was why you'd made the appointment with me this afternoon."

"Yes, Home Secretary, in a way it is." Harry reached into his pocket for the little device Malcolm had given him and pressed play.

" _I informed the Home Secretary that your treason had gone on enough, between the torture orders and that business with Yalta, and he agreed to let me handle it. Signed every single order I needed to override the customs and immigration blocks set on King."_

" _Blake knew?"_

" _He knew you'd be taken out in a staged terrorist plot. I promised you'd look like you were trying to play hero, wouldn't make the Service lose face. But you just had to bloody live, didn't you?"_

The look on Nicholas Blake's face was one of abject horror as he heard the voice of Oliver Mace implicate him in the Davie King mess. "Harry, you've got to understand…"

"Understand what? That you allowed Mace to hire a terrorist to massacre me and my team? That you let that weasel of a man worm his way into your good graces and practically bring this country to its knees?" Harry growled.

Before Blake could reply, Harry hit a few more buttons to play another key piece of Oliver's confession.

" _When I took over JIC, I needed to cover my tracks in case you started digging, as I knew you wanted to. I had a forger study your signature and replicate it on all the orders I destroyed of my own and replaced with yours."_

" _And Sally Bernard?"_

" _Paid for her false information with funds I have stored in the Cayman Islands."_

"Harry, I…" Blake sputtered.

"Think very carefully about what you'd like to say to me, Home Secretary. I'd hate to have to handle you like I did with Mace," Harry warned.

Blake remained silent, his face a flurry of confusion and panic.

"I'll let you weigh your options," Harry said finally. He turned and walked out of the office.

The following morning, Nicholas Blake announced his immediate resignation as Home Secretary. The Prime Minister named a replacement by the afternoon.

Harry made an appointment with the new Home Secretary as soon as he could. William Towers was a man with a good reputation for being a very straightforward man. But that did not mean much to Harry. Nicholas Blake had once had a good reputation, too.

"Harry Pearce, so glad to finally meet you," Towers greeted, standing and extending his hand.

The two men shook hands, both with their firm, commanding grips. "And you as well, Home Secretary," Harry replied politely.

"I have heard tell that you are the reason I've got this position, and I'm hoping you've set this meeting so that I can be further enlightened."

"I had nothing to do with your appointment, but I am the reason the position was available, yes. And everything I'm going to tell you in the meeting, Home Secretary, is entirely top secret and confidential."

Towers nodded. "Yes, of course. I have signed the Official Secrets Act."

Harry then proceeded to tell, in rather broad terms, all about the duplicity of Oliver Mace and the complicity of Nicholas Blake. "And now, I'd like to ask for you to intercede on my behalf."

"Oh?"

"As I explained, the torture orders forged to implicate me last fall were in fact the product of Oliver Mace's treason. At the time, my team could not prove that he was behind it. An analyst in my Section, Ruth Evershed, made a false confession to buy us more time."

"And she's been a fugitive from justice all this time, am I to understand?"

"Yes. I don't know where she is, actually, to ensure the deniability of my team, of course, but now that things have come to light, I am hoping to arrange for her full exoneration."

"Of course, Harry. I'll see to it."

Harry balked at being called by his first name, but he hid it well. "Thank you, Home Secretary. I'll be taking leave to retrieve Miss Evershed myself."

"But you'll have to wait till after the ceremony before you can go. And please call me William. No need to stand on formality."

Choosing to ignore the unorthodox insistence on first names, Harry asked, "What ceremony?"

"You'll get the letter from the palace tomorrow, but I don't think Her Majesty would mind me telling you now that you're going to be knighted."

"I'm what?!"

"For your services to the realm. This whole mess was handled quite elegantly and mercifully quietly. And the honor is long overdue, from what I'm told. So after you're knighted, I'll see to Miss Evershed, and you can take your leave."

Harry was very much on the back foot with all that. "Right. Thank you," he replied, not having any other words. He wished the Home Secretary a good day and went back to the Grid.

Everyone was still reeling from Adam's untimely death. Harry called Ros into his office and officially appointed her as Section Chief. She merely nodded and walked out. Harry wasn't worried; Ros had proved herself more than worthy and reliable.

The following morning, Harry received the letter that Towers had told him about. On April the twenty-ninth, he would be knighted by the queen. He asked Connie to go with him. She always liked an excuse to wear a hat, and he certainly couldn't stomach going alone.

"Disappointed there's no Lady Pearce for you?" she teased.

"As soon as this bloody circus is over, there might well be."

Connie scoffed, "What are you going to do, rescue her from her exile and propose marriage to her on the spot?"

"Don't be silly," Harry replied gruffly.

"Good. Because that would be wholly unromantic and bloody stupid."

"I'm so glad I asked you to this, Connie," he said sarcastically.

She playfully elbowed him in the ribs. "Glad to join you."

Harry had to hide his wince of pain. She'd hit nudged him right where he'd gotten bruised by that bullet to the Kevlar vest.

After quite a bit of pomp and circumstance, Sir Harry Pearce returned to the Grid to try to put his Section back together. He made daily inquires with the Home Secretary about Ruth, but was constantly told that it was in progress and he needed to be patient. But Harry was done being patient. He'd been patient for seven months.

Early the next Friday morning, Harry stormed into the forgery suite. "Where is she?" he demanded.

Malcolm looked up to see Harry with a rather wild look in his eyes. "Oh, hello Harry. Where is who?"

"It's over, Malcolm, Towers got it sorted. I'm going to bring Ruth home. Now, tell me where she is," he growled.

There was a slight hesitation. Harry's original instruction was to never tell anyone where Ruth was for any reason. And, as point of fact, it had been a lot longer than anyone had originally anticipated. There was every chance that she wasn't still in the same place where Malcolm had sent her. But Harry was right, it was all over. Ruth had been cleared of any and all charges. It was time to bring her home.

With a slightly shaky hand, Malcolm wrote on a scrap of paper the same thing he'd written for Ruth seven months earlier. Coordinates.

Harry snatched the paper up and stormed back out again. On his way, he used his mobile to ring the DG and inform him that he'd be taking the weekend off and was not to be contacted for anything short of nuclear attack.

Jo watched Harry nervously. As soon as he was out of the pods, she turned to Connie. "Gosh, have you ever seen Harry that upset?"

But Connie just smirked. "Oh he's not upset. I'd wager he's very excited, actually."


	46. Chapter 46

_Early Summer 2007_

Harry approached the small bookstore across from the church slowly and carefully. His heart thundered in his chest in anticipation of the moment when he'd see her again after so long. But he wanted to be cautious. He was unsure how he would find her, whether the time apart and in hiding had changed her.

He stood in the doorway and quietly watched as a blonde woman with her back to him put books on shelves. She wore a pink pattern ed blouse that flowed shapelessly over her and a white handkerchief skirt that reached her knees. The parts of her legs that were visible were beautifully shaped and glowing with a faint golden tan. Harry smiled. He'd know those legs anywhere. And after seven months, he was desperate to have them wrapped around him once again.

Ruth seemed to sense a presence. She turned toward the doorway and gasped. The books tumbled out of her shocked hands. "Harry!" she breathed.

"Why is it you seem to drop things whenever you first see me?" he teased, grinning madly. "It was a stack of files last time."

Tears filled her eyes as she ignored his stupid comment and ran towards him. With another cry of his name, Ruth launched herself into his arms.

Harry had certainly wanted her legs wrapped around him, but not like this. He wasn't prepared to catch her, and she was a lot heavier than she looked. Not to mention the fact that he was old and out of shape and quite the worse for wear. He stumbled, trying not to drop her, and felt a twinge in his bad knee. "Christ," he muttered, wincing in pain.

Ruth suddenly remembered herself. "Oh bollocks, I'm sorry, are you alright?" she asked with concern, taking a step away from him.

But Harry couldn't be bothered with that now. He pulled her into his arms and breathed in that beautiful scent of her. He captured her lips with his and kissed her with everything he had. Ruth responded eagerly, her hands clutching his shirt at his waist and keeping him close to her. "God I've missed you," he told her, resting his forehead against hers and catching his breath.

Tears began to fall from Ruth's eyes, and she shuddered with sobs. "It's been seven bloody months, Harry!"

"I know, I'm sorry," he replied, stroking her stick-straight blonde hair.

She suddenly pushed him away violently and hammered her fists on his chest and sobbed, "Seven months! You left me for seven months! I thought I'd never see you again! I thought you'd gotten shot or something! I thought you didn't want me anymore!"

Harry stopped her assault by crushing her body against him and holding her as tight as he could. "No, never, Ruth. I've been desperate to get you back. I dreamed of you every night. And I'll tell you everything that's happened but…later, alright? Let me just hold you in my arms for a little while longer," he begged.

He felt her nod and relax in his embraced. She regained her breathing and her tears soon ceased. They stood there in the doorway of the bookshop, nestled in each other's arms, finally not caring who could see them. Ruth breathed in deeply, her face pressed against his neck. "I'd almost forgotten how delicious you smell," she murmured.

"I've been traveling all day, I can't imagine I smell all that nice."

"You smell like you, and that's what matters," she insisted.

Harry pulled back slightly, stroking her hair again. "You've dyed your hair. I've never imagined you as a blonde. Do they have more fun?"

She scoffed, "Not in my experience. Besides, this is a wig. I couldn't bear to actually dye my hair. I've never really liked the idea of it, not being myself. But I knew I needed to hide, and having Rafaela look different from Ruth was only smart."

He nodded in understanding. "It's very good quality, this one."

"Yes, I wanted to be sure it was realistic. I've got it glued on and everything."

"Would you take it off?" he asked. "You don't need to hide anymore, Ruth. Especially not from me."

She smiled softly. "No, never from you, Harry." She leaned in and kissed him softly. "Come on, I'll close up the shop and we can go up to my flat and figure everything out."

It only took her a minute to lock things up and take Harry by the hand and lead him upstairs. Harry's knee wasn't too pleased with the hike up to the rooftop flat, but he managed. Ruth went into the bathroom to take care of the wig after locking the front door behind them.

Harry used the time by himself to wander through the flat, looking at all the horribly impersonal things that had surrounded Ruth's life over the last seven months. No, not Ruth, Rafaela. He was curious about her legend. Perhaps sometime soon, he could ask her about the life she had led here. Vernazza was a supremely beautiful place. And running a little bookshop for tourists right across from a church in the seaside Italian town seemed the perfect place for Ruth. Other than with Harry, of course. He stood on the balcony and looked over the church roof to the tiny bay and thought that it might be nice for them to come back here one day, to explore it together on holiday. One day.

The bathroom door opened, causing Harry to turn. He watched Ruth walk toward him. She was smiling. So was he. "There you are, Ruth," he said, his eyes taking in her chestnut hair curling softly around her shoulders.

"I haven't been called Ruth in such a long time," she realized.

He reached his hand out to her. She took it without hesitation. "I know it's been a long time, Ruth. Too long. But we're together now. I've gotten everything sorted, and we can go back home together."

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

She exhaled in relief. "Good. It's lovely here, but I desperately want to go home." Ruth nuzzled into Harry's embrace once again. "But being with you feels like home no matter where we are. Even if I have missed getting to be with you in the cold morning fog."

He chuckled. "We can go back to the May showers in London."

"I can't wait."

They went quiet again, standing in each other's arms on the balcony. Harry had to stifle a yawn. But it did not go unnoticed. Ruth looked up at him questioningly. "Sorry, the trip was a bit long. I was up all night on the plane to Milan."

"Oh you must be exhausted. We should go to bed right away." Ruth's eyes sparkled and she bit her lip teasingly.

Harry began to laugh and backed her into the room. "I'm not that exhausted. But yes, we should go to bed right away."

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him quite soundly. Her teeth nibbled on his bottom lip as his hands trailed down her back to her bum. Ruth moaned into his mouth and rolled her hips against his.

They tumbled onto the bed together, undressing each other with breathless giggles and grins, kissing and caressing every bit of exposed flesh they could find.

"I've missed you so much, Ruth," Harry murmured against her neck as he trailed kisses down to her chest, his tongue flicking out against her hardened nipple.

She gasped and arched against him. "Oh I love you, Harry," she moaned. "Make love to me, please."

Harry couldn't form words after that. Only groans of pleasure as he relearned every inch of her body with his hands and mouth. He wrapped his lips around her center and entered her with a single finger. The guttural noise that erupted from the back of her throat made Harry's whole body shudder. He curled another finger inside her and coaxed her into a frenzied climax. Ruth was moaning and whimpering and writhing from his touch.

When he released her for her to come down, she sat up, still trying to catch her breath. She pushed him onto his back so she could climb on top of him. She kissed him rather messily, tasting herself on his tongue. His hands clenched around her thighs as she rubbed her wetness against his hard cock.

He ripped his face from hers, gasping, "Ruth, I need you."

She didn't make him wait any longer, wrapping her delicate hand around his erection and guiding him inside her. She sank down till he filled her to the hilt. They both whimpered at the sensation after being bereft of each other for so long. "God, Harry!" she gasped. Ruth began to move, setting a languid pace. She leaned in to capture his lips once more.

Despite their desperation for one another, their lovemaking was slow and passionate as the savored their reunion. Ruth was built up more and more and more until she cried out his name and her body shattered around him. Harry thrust up hard thrice more and spilled inside her.

Ruth collapsed on top of him. Harry wrapped his arms around her sweat-slick body. Their panting breaths and the crash of ocean waves were the only sounds to be heard.

"I love you more than words, Ruth," he whispered, pressing his lips to the shell of her ear.

She hummed happily and nuzzled against his neck. But her legs were going cramp, and she had to roll off him. Ruth flopped over on her back and pulled the covers down off the bed. Harry turned over and got under the sheets with her. He noticed something that he hadn't seen when blinded by passion earlier. A large shadow beneath her breast on her left side.

"What's this?" he asked, his fingertips ghosting over the fading bruise.

"It's fine now. Ribs have mended," she replied evasively.

Harry frowned. "What happened, Ruth?"

"I got a bit banged about. A couple of men robbed my shop. I caught them in the middle of it." She swallowed hard, knowing that Harry deserved to know the full truth but not liking to admit it. "The bruise on my jaw from where he hit me is all gone now. He nearly broke my arm with his grip. And then I got thrown against the counter and cracked two ribs. The bruise is all that's left now. But honestly, Harry, I'm fine."

A sick feeling of regret settled in Harry's stomach. He softly caressed the mark with his lips. Ruth stroked his hair as he did it, pleased with the comfort he provided.

"I've had worse," she reminded him.

"I was there in the aftermath of the others," he replied.

"You're here now. You didn't miss too much."

"When did it happen?"

"Last week. My birthday, actually."

The sick feeling was nearly overpowering. "Christ," he whispered.

"What?"

"You were attacked while at the same time, I was having champagne with the bloody queen."

Ruth laughed in spite of herself. "You what?!"

He sighed. "I've been knighted. The ceremony was on your birthday."

"You're Sir Harry Pearce now?"

"I suppose so."

"I think that's wonderful. I like you with a title," she teased, stroking his cheek with her hand.

"That was the price, actually. The new Home Secretary wouldn't let me come bring you home till after the ceremony. Took him another week to get everything sorted with your exoneration. But I should have pushed harder, I should have insisted on coming to get you first and working it out after I'd brought you home."

Ruth cut off his self-flagellation. "You didn't know, Harry. It's alright. I'm fine."

Harry rested his cheek on her belly, closing his eyes to savor the feel of her. "I hate that I couldn't protect you."

There wasn't much she could say in response to that. Because deep down, Ruth agreed. She hated that Harry hadn't been around to protect her. But she still knew it wasn't his fault, and she would never allow him to feel as though it was. Instead, she changed the subject. "How about you, then? I didn't notice any new wounds on you. Managed to keep from getting yourself shot, I suppose?"

"Actually, no." Harry extricated himself from her, knowing it wouldn't be right to tell this story whilst tangled with her naked body. "I'll tell you all the rest of it another time, but the way we finally managed to bring down Mace wasn't exactly the way any of us envisioned. Ruth, do you remember the name Davie King?"

It took Ruth a minute to run through her memory of her knowledge of Harry's personnel file and operations history. "Cookstown bombing?"

He nodded. "That's the one." Harry then proceeded to explain how Connie—who he told Ruth had taken her place as analyst during her time away—and himself had been targeted by King, how the whole team had been in danger, how they'd managed to capture King and thwart his plan. "King admitted it was Mace behind everything, and I had him brought in."

"And how did you get yourself shot?"

"We needed Davie to shoot at me so he'd give away his position and Jo and Zaf and Ros could go in and neutralize him."

"You got shot!?"

"I was wearing a bulletproof vest."

"Thank god for that."

"Only Adam didn't know that."

Ruth's breath caught in her throat. "Adam?"

"Sniper bullet to the belly. He was gone before the ambulance could arrive."

Tears escaped down her cheeks.

Harry had to look away, unable to watch her cry. "He died for nothing," he growled with regret.

Her hand came to rest on his arm. "Not for nothing, Harry," she said with a shaky voice. "You said he didn't know you were wearing a vest. He died to save you, even if you didn't need saving. Besides, the vest wouldn't have protected you from being shot in the head."

He just hummed noncommittally in response.

"Wes?" she asked.

"He's in a boarding school now. Just started this term. I went up there myself after I dealt with Oliver."

"What do you mean, 'dealt with Oliver'?"

"He's dead," Harry told her flatly.

"Did you kill him?"

"Yes."

Ruth paused for a moment and Harry held his breath. But eventually she nodded. "Good." They didn't speak another word about it.

"I told Wes that we would both arrange a memorial for Adam during the summer. He didn't want a funeral, he told me."

"Of course we'll be there. Is he…where's he going to go?"

"Fiona's parents will take him during his school holidays."

"That's for the best, I suppose."

Harry felt like he could read her mind. That note of regret in her voice, that twinge of disappointment. She wanted, as Harry did, to be able to take him in. But they couldn't, not with their life. It would be cruel to try to give a home to an orphaned boy when there was a very good chance that he could lose Auntie Ruth and Uncle Harry just like he lost his mum and dad.

Ruth let out a shaky breath. "I think we need a bit of dinner. Let's get cleaned up and I'll fix us something."

"Good idea," he replied softly.

She made to get out of bed, but Harry caught her arm. She turned back to him questioningly.

"I love you," Harry said simply.

Ruth gave a gentle smile. "I love you," she replied.

They got out of bed and Harry took a shower while Ruth made them some dinner. Ruth wore only her dressing gown while Harry was in his half-buttoned shirt and his pants. They ate their simple pasta and salad out on the balcony as the sun began to set and the bells of Santa Margherita di Antiochia.

After cleaning the dishes and packing up the things of Rafaela's that Ruth wanted to bring home to London, the pair of them got back into bed and fell asleep to the sound of the ocean waves.

Harry was awakened by the Italian sunshine streaming through the open windows. He turned over to watch Ruth's sleeping face. He traced his finger down her forehead and nose and lips. She smiled when he got to her chin.

"Still need to be reminded I'm really here?" Ruth asked as her eyes blinked open.

His smile matched hers. "Now more than ever, I think," he whispered.

"We're going home today. And so now more than ever, I'm not going anywhere ever again. Don't you dare let me," she said in her sleepy voice.

Harry's hand tangled in her dark hair, letting the silky strands fall over his fingers. "Marry me, Ruth," he whispered.

She chuckled. "Let's just get home first, alright? One thing at a time, love."

He nodded and leaned in for a kiss. They'd have to get up very soon so they could catch the ferry and then the train to Milan for the flight to London. But he could lie here and kiss her for a little while.


	47. Chapter 47

_Early Summer 2007_

"I thought we could stay at mine tonight. All the animals are there. And then tomorrow I'll take the day and we can reopen your house," Harry told her, giving her hand a squeeze in the back of his car going home from Heathrow. "I should have taken care of that sooner, but I'm afraid I didn't think of it. I was a bit fixated on just getting to you as soon as I could."

"It's not like you to be driven to distraction, Harry," she teased.

"You have a certain effect on me, Ruth," he replied softly, taking the back of her hand and pressing it to his lips.

Ruth smiled serenely. "So when can I go back to work?"

"I'll need to take care of some things. It will take a bit of time," he told her vaguely.

She sighed, "I understand. But I am eager to get back. Especially since I'm going to absolutely hate seeing you off to work and not getting to go with you."

Harry certainly liked the sound of that, liked that she wanted to be with him and wanted to return to Five. He hadn't been certain, hadn't brought it up. But he, too, wanted to be with her at home and on the Grid, and did not relish the idea of leaving her behind when he had to go to Thames House. As he thought about that, he did not notice the flicker of panic that passed across Ruth's face.

They arrived at Harry's house, and he disabled the alarm, letting her inside. She took a deep breath of the familiar smell of the place. And about two seconds later, the sound of little paws sounded down the hall as Scarlett attempted to run towards them. The cats were not far behind. Ruth fell to the floor to snuggle them all. Mopsy was trying to climb on Ruth's back. Fidget was meowing loudly and pressing his big gray head against her hand. Scarlett was wagging her little tail like mad.

Ruth was laughing and crying at seeing them all again. "I see they all get on."

"Yes, they've become quite good friends. Mopsy and Scarlett like to play fetch together. Fidget curls up in the dog bed with her," Harry told her.

"Oh, I'm so glad. Scarlett is looking a bit elderly, though."

"Yes, the poor old girl had a rough go of it this past winter. I don't think she's got much time left."

"I'm glad I got to see her, then," Ruth replied, kissing the old dog's little nose.

"Me too."

Harry ordered them a curry for dinner while Ruth went to take a shower. She remarked that everything looked just the same as when she left. Harry joked that he wanted to make sure she recognized the place when she got back. That earned him a bright smile and a sweet kiss from Ruth.

They got settled in the kitchen and ate out of takeaway cartons and talked about everything. Ruth told him about her life as Rafaela Lombardi—not too many details, but just about Vernazza and the routine she'd had and how desperately she had missed home and Harry. In turn, Harry filled her in about Adam's breakdown and subsequent recovery before his tragic death, about Ros and Yalta, about Connie joining the team. He was rather certain that having both Connie and Ruth on the team would be a great assistance, but he anticipated that Connie might want to return to her retirement. He'd have to discuss it with her as they arranged for Ruth's return to Section D.

That night, after taking Scarlett outside and feeding the cats and sharing some scotch cuddled on the sofa like they used to, Harry and Ruth went upstairs and made love in his bed for the first time in seven months. This, more than anything else, made everything feel like normal again. The sounds of London bleeding through the windows as they lay nestled in each other's arms, sweaty and sated, panting to catch their breath.

"Welcome home, Ruth," Harry murmured.

She made a little sound of contentment and pressed a kiss to his chest before falling asleep.

The next morning, Harry got to wake once again to Ruth beside him. He watched her for a moment before slipping out of bed and making breakfast in nothing but his trunks. He brought up a tray of tea and eggs and toast just in time to see her stretch and sit up. The sheet fell away from her bare breasts, which made him grin.

Ruth saw the way he looked at her and she blushed slightly. "Breakfast in bed, is it?" she asked, pulling the sheet back up. "I like being served by a half-naked man."

"I like serving breakfast in bed to a naked woman."

She chuckled and shook her head at him, budging over in bed so they could sit together to eat. "This is a nice start to the day. You shouldn't spoil me, Harry, I might get used to this."

"Neither one of us is going to have any time to be spoiled once things get back to the way they should."

"Yes, I know you're right," she replied glumly.

Harry brushed her hair behind her ear. "Cheer up, darling. We've got today. You can get back to your house, we can a snog on that big, uncomfortable sofa of yours."

And with that, she was back to smiling.

They got dressed for the day, packed up Ruth's things, gathered the cats and their various accoutrements, and Harry drove them across London to Ruth's old house.

"I have to warn you," Harry said, pulling onto her street, "Section X had to search everything. I did take the cats and some of your things home with me before they got there, but I haven't seem what sort of damage they left behind. Malcolm took care of all your bank accounts and credit cards and made sure that the house was put on a classified safehouse list. It's been empty and untouched."

Ruth steeled herself, preparing for what sort of havoc she'd find in her pretty little house. "Well, we might be in for quite a bit of a clean."

And that was precisely what they did. Section X had not only searched everything but had left all of Ruth's belongings strewn all over the place. They weren't very respectful to confessed terrorists working within the Security Services, Harry had told her.

It took them the better part of the day to pick everything up, put it all away, and dust, scrub, and vacuum the layer of dust over the entire house. They took a break for tea and that snog on the sofa Harry had been after. By the time they got all the cleaning done, they were both exhausted.

"Thank you for all your help, Harry," Ruth said, finally putting the last book back on the shelf.

"And now you can get up tomorrow and find everything just as it should be," he answered. He pressed a kiss to her temple. "I should get back to Scarlett."

"I thought you were going to stay," she replied with a frown.

"Well, I don't want to impose. You've just got your house back and all."

"If you really have to get back, I won't keep you. But I think a bubble bath would be in order and it would be even better if you wanted to join me." There was a certain sparkle in Ruth's eye that made Harry's knees go weak.

"I'll have the neighbor look in on the dog," he replied.


	48. Chapter 48

"And so that was when you lived happily ever after?" Penny asked impatiently.

Harry sighed at the interruption. Hearing himself tell the whole story, he realized how thoroughly frustrating he and Ruth had been, though at the time, it had seemed alright. "No, we didn't live happily ever after then."

"Well we sort of did," Ruth interjected. "I mean, we were together. It took some time for us to sort everything out and to get to where we are now, but that was really the beginning, when you brought me home to London."

She was right, in a way. He had to agree that yes, they were together. But not in a 'happily ever after' sort of way. Not by a long shot. "We still had some rather significant stumbles," he argued delicately.

"Stumbles?" Ruth asked, raising her brow warningly.

"I mucked it all up, alright? Is that what you want me to say?" he snapped.

Ruth chuckled, "Settle down, Harry, you know that's not what I want you to say. And there is a lot more to the story, you're right, but don't make it seem like we were ever so tragic after I came home."

"I suppose 'tragic' isn't the word to describe it," he conceded.

She nodded. "No it isn't. I don't like to think of anything about our life together as tragic. There may have been tragedies, tragic moments, but we were never tragic."

"But you did muck it up," Penny accused.

Ruth began to laugh and gave the little girl a hug. Harry, however, was less amused. "Yes, I mucked it up," he grumbled.

"We worked it out in the end," Ruth assured her. "Go on with the story, Harry. Because neither of us behaved at our best, but we still figured it out, didn't we?"

"Yes, we certainly did," he said with a soft smile. Harry then steeled himself to explain how he and Ruth had returned home, had returned to each other, and how he had nearly buggered it all.


	49. Chapter 49

_Early Summer 2007_

Harry called Ruth from the car with a big smile. "I'm leaving Thames House now. Put on something stunning, I'm taking you out somewhere posh tonight and we're celebrating."

Ruth laughed at his enthusiasm. "I haven't got anything stunning, Harry. And besides, what are we celebrating?"

"We are celebrating that I've got you cleared to come back to the Grid on Monday. So we've got all weekend to enjoy our last bit of free time together before our lives get back to what we would count as normal," he replied. "And as for something stunning, why don't you try that black dress you hide in the back of your closet, hmm?"

She made a noise of discontent, obviously unhappy that he'd been snooping in her closet. "If I can fit into it, I'll wear it. But only because this is definitely worth celebrating."

"Wonderful. Now, I'll be by to pick you up in about an hour. I'm going to go home and change my clothes and get my car. I've got the driver today," he informed her.

And so it was that an hour later, Harry arrived in his car to pick up Ruth from her house. He'd changed into a gray suit instead of his usual black, and he decided to wear the blue shirt that he'd worn that first night he'd taken Ruth to dinner. Even though they'd lost their footing after that for a bit, that evening had been very special for them. First date, first time they made love, first night they fell asleep naked in each other's arms. And with the celebration Harry had planned, he wanted some of the good luck from that blue shirt.

Ruth shouted for him to come in when he rang the doorbell. Never ready on time, his Ruth. But Harry didn't mind. Their reservations would keep. "Take your time, love," he called upstairs to her upon coming inside. Mopsy had come to greet him, and he took a moment to say hello to the tortoiseshell cat who had lived with him until a week earlier.

"Sorry to be late," Ruth said, hurrying down the stairs.

Harry looked up to see her and his jaw actually dropped. He'd seen that black dress on the hanger, but he hadn't properly imagined what she would look like in it. The cap sleeves and knee-length hem were modest, and even the V-neck of the dress wasn't cut too low. But very rarely had he ever seen Ruth show off any of her marvelous cleavage, her elegant arms, her shapely legs, all her beautiful creamy skin. She'd curled her hair a bit, letting it fall in waves around her shoulders. She'd also lined her eyes and put on some lipstick. "You look absolutely stunning," he told her in awe.

"Well you did say to wear this dress," she replied, visibly pleased with his reaction to her appearance. "And you are looking rather delicious yourself. Did you shave before coming over?"

He very nearly blushed. He hadn't imagined she would notice. "Yes, actually, I did."

She approached him and traced her hand down his cheek. "Lovely," she murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Harry had a moment of wanting to stuff the reservation and drag Ruth back upstairs to her bed, but he thought the better of it. He cleared his throat. "Right. Shall we?"

Ruth was all smiles as she grabbed her coat and locked up the house behind them.

They arrived at the restaurant Harry quite liked. He had warned her that it was posh, and it was a very accurate statement. Waiters in tuxedos, dishes served under silver, violin quartet playing in the corner. Ruth got that nervous look about her, but Harry just gave her hand a little squeeze and smiled at her.

He ordered champagne so he could toast to her renewed security clearance. Not the most romantic of toasts, but apropos for the moment. Later, he hoped, they could toast to something else.

Ruth took a sip of champagne and let her eyes wander the room before returning to look at Harry. "You know, we've been out for dinner plenty of times by now, but this somehow feels a bit like our first date. You're even wearing a blue shirt again."

"It's the same shirt," he told her. "I did that on purpose, thinking about our first date. Since it was a very good date."

She blushed ever so slightly, obviously recalling how that evening ended. "Yes, it was. And if I wasn't such a cowardly fool, things might have turned out much different."

"I think we ended up where we needed to. Perhaps it took a bit longer, but I think we've proven that patience is something we have in common."

Ruth chuckled. "Harry, you are the least patient person I know. You're very demanding for results. Once you want something, you make it happen."

He shook his head. "Not when it comes to you."

"Oh?"

"I was biding my time with you, Ruth. I wanted to do thing properly, to make sure we were both ready when something finally happened."

She snorted, "That was you biding your time? Harry, we slept together after our first date."

"But think of all the time we spent together before that, Ruth. The stolen kisses, the scotch we shared cuddled up on the sofa in my office after hours? That all went on well before I ever asked you out."

"That's true," she conceded. "What would you have done if you weren't biding your time?"

"I'd have taken you to bed after Danny's funeral."

"That was when I kissed you for the first time."

"Yes. And I was already in love with you then."

Her eyes went wide. "Were you really?"

"Oh yes, very much."

Ruth shook her head in disbelief. "I don't think I'll ever be used to you, Harry."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Every time I think I understand you, I find out something else that puts me on the back foot. You're certainly never boring, I'll give you that."

"Well, I hope one day you'll be exceedingly bored of me, Ruth. I hope you'll be able to know what I'm thinking at home just like you do on the Grid, that we can finish each other's sentences no matter what we're doing. And I might surprise you sometimes, but I promise that you do know me. Better than anyone has ever known me in all my life, I think."

She smiled at that. "I do know you, Harry. I know you because you've let me know you. And I don't take that gift of your trust for granted."

He reached across the table to take her hand. "I love you, Ruth," he told her softly. "More than I'll ever be able to say."

"I love you, too," she replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

"Marry me."

With those two little words, it was as though all the air was sucked out of the room. "Wh-what?" Ruth choked out, taking her hand back from him.

"I asked you when we were in Italy, and you didn't give me an answer. You told me you wanted to go home. We're home, Ruth, and so I'm asking you again," he explained. Originally, Harry had the idea to ask her at the end of the meal when they were finishing their wine, when he could make a better speech than that. But this moment had felt so right, so perfect.

Ruth swallowed hard. "Harry, you can't ask me to marry you now, like this."

"Why not?"

"I have been back in this country for a week. I haven't even gone back to work yet. It's too much, too soon. I have to remember what life as Ruth Evershed is like before I can even think about anything else!" she lamented.

Harry felt his expression harden with his heart. "So that would be a 'no' then?" he asked sardonically.

And then something happened that surprised him even more than her rejection. The Ruth Evershed he had wined and dined and fallen in love with before she'd gone into exile would have averted her eyes, blushed in embarrassment, worried the edge of the tablecloth, maybe wrung her hands anxiously as she stuttered and stumbled through a response. But the Ruth Evershed that sat in front of Harry now was quite different. This Ruth Evershed had fended for herself as another person for seven months, had suffered in the belief that she had been abandoned by her country and her friends and the man who claimed to love her. This Ruth Evershed did not respond to his cold words with an endearing mix of nervous fumblings.

This Ruth Evershed looked straight into Harry's eyes, the pale blue burning with a defiant strength that he knew was there but had never quite seen. This Ruth Evershed did not stutter or fidget. This Ruth Evershed stood up from the table and walked away.

Harry was left where he sat in the middle of the restaurant with half a bottle of champagne and two extravagant meals on the way and not a clue as to what he was supposed to do now. He held out hope that she had just gone to the loo to compose herself, that she'd be back in ten minutes or less.

But ten minutes went by. Fifteen. Thirty-five. And it was clear that Ruth had left him there. He asked the Maître'D, who confirmed that the woman who had accompanied Sir Harry had left and hailed a cab outside. Since he had no intention of eating a fancy meal on his own, Harry asked that everything be wrapped up and ready when he paid the bill.

As Harry got back in his car with only the food in the passenger seat instead of Ruth, he tried to figure out what to do. Oftentimes, Ruth needed time for herself to work things out. And that was probably what she was doing. She likely wouldn't appreciate it if Harry showed up at her door and tried to bully her into marrying him. No, neither of them wanted that. He thought about calling her, but that would probably lead to a similar conclusion.

In the end, he sent her a text message to her new mobile. **Let me know that you got home safe.** Because as upset as he was, as much as he wanted to shout at her and get on his knees and beg for her, he needed to know she was safe. Never mind what he wanted, he needed be certain she wasn't harmed.

 **I did.** Her brief reply came in while he was still driving. Well, at least he could be secure in that knowledge. The guilt and heartbreak was settling into his stomach, making him feel rather ill, now that he knew she was at least physically alright.

Harry drove to his house and immediately put the food in the fridge. He had absolutely no appetite now. He changed his clothes and poured a very large scotch and sat scratching Scarlett's ears. Perhaps he'd burn that blue shirt. Might make for a nice diversion in the morning.

He pondered his melancholy for quite some time. He wasn't sure how long. He did know it was quite late and he'd gone through almost half a bottle of scotch. He was about to get some more when the doorbell rang.

Curious and just on the right side of drunk, Harry made his way to the foyer and answered the door.

Ruth was standing there, wringing her hands. "Can I come in, Harry?" she asked in a small voice.

"Of course," he replied. The alcohol had made him a bit hoarse.

She breezed past him and removed her coat. All she was wearing underneath were her lounging-at-home clothes, a pair of soft cotton trousers and a ratty old tshirt. "I don't want to talk about anything. I don't want to deal with any of it right now. I'm furious with you, actually, but I don't want to get into it." Ruth turned around to face him as he reset the security alarms. "But the thing is, I'm really upset, and I don't want to be alone. And regardless of the fact that I'm angry with you, whenever I'm upset, you're the only person I want to be with. So I don't want to talk to you, Harry, but I just need to be with you. If…if that's alright. I just…I just want to go to sleep with you beside me and not deal with any of the rest of it till tomorrow. Is that okay?"

Harry was a bit stunned at her strange outburst, so he just nodded. He hesitantly held his hand out. She took hold of it and led him up the stairs to his bedroom. Neither of them said a word as they got ready for bed. Neither of them spoke at all as they climbed under the covers and turned out the light.

Neither of them spoke until the small hours of the morning when Ruth, knowing the difference between Harry sleeping and Harry just lying quietly, finally broke the silence. "It scares me, Harry," she whispered.

"What does?" he replied. He wanted to roll over and face her, but he didn't dare.

"It scares me how much I missed you, being without you all those months, and it scares me how much I want you. I've never felt so consumed by the terrifying need to be with another person before."

Now, Harry did turn over. He slowly reached out to touch her hair. "It's okay to love me, Ruth," he breathed.

She exhaled rather heavily before rolling over to face him. "I do love you, Harry. I love you more than anything. And it scares me to death."

He paused for a moment, considering his words. "Do you remember what you would do all those years ago when you were still new on the Grid and you were afraid?"

"No, what?"

"Well, sometimes, you'd let me hold you. And I think that worked out rather well."

"Yes, it did," she agreed.

"So how about whenever you're scared, you just let me hold you. Let me love you, Ruth."

She bristled. "Harry, I told you I don't want to talk about…"

"I'm not asking you to talk about anything. We can deal with that later. But for now, just let me hold you."

And she did.


	50. Chapter 50

_Early Summer 2007_

Harry tied his tie in the mirror and sighed to himself. He hadn't seen or heard from Ruth in two days. She left before he woke up on Saturday morning—highly unusual, as his Ruth was never an early riser. Was she even his Ruth anymore? She'd left a note on his kitchen counter telling him she needed some time, thanking him for being there for her, asking him not to contact her till she got in touch with him, saying she'd see him Monday on the Grid at the very least.

And now it was Monday. He'd finally have his best analyst back on the job. And he'd get to look up from his desk, gaze out the window, and see her working away. She'd be sitting beside him in briefings again. Everything would be as it should. Except this new distance that had sprung up now. When she'd shunned him before, told him she couldn't go out with him again, he'd been utterly lost. Now, at least, he knew she loved him. Loved him too much, in her mind. And he just couldn't understand it. If she loved him and he loved her, why were they not together? There was no reason now, to be apart. They'd been apart for seven long, torturous months. He didn't want to be apart from her for another moment. Why was she insisting on this separation?

With a frustrated sigh, Harry said goodbye to his little dog, who seemed to be getting older and feebler every day. Not having the cats around any longer seemed to be making Scarlett lonely. Harry would have thought that she'd have enjoyed the peace and quiet. But maybe Scarlett wanted the company as much as Ruth wanted to avoid it.

When Harry arrived on the Grid, he found a veritable crowd surrounding Ruth's station. She was back in her place, after Jo arranged her security clearances on Harry's instruction and Malcolm had set up her computer once again. The whole team was talking and laughing joyously at having their friend and colleague back with them at last. Even Ros, who had only ever been on the right side of cold toward Ruth, had a small smile on her face. Harry left them all to it and chose not to interrupt, going straight back to his office.

There, he found Connie waiting for him. The one member of the team not fawning over Ruth. Though Connie hadn't known Ruth before, so he supposed this made sense.

"Good morning," Harry greeted, somewhat warily. Connie had that look on her face that he never quite trusted, the one that was equal parts disapproving and concerned. Well, perhaps mostly disapproving.

"What have you done to that girl?" she asked sharply.

"I beg your pardon?" Harry asked, sitting down at his desk and booting up his computer.

"You said she was just as she was when left, just as loving and kind and enthusiastic as before. That woman sitting there is deeply troubled, Harry. So I'm asking what you've done to her."

Harry sighed heavily. "We had a bit of a disagreement," he said delicately.

"About what?"

"I had an idea that she didn't take to very kindly. And she walked out."

Connie grimaced. "Was this something sexual that will make me want to cut your bollocks off?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "No, she walked out of the restaurant on Friday after I asked her to marry me."

She groaned in annoyance. "You absolute bloody fool! Didn't I tell you specifically not to do anything so stupid as to propose to her?"

"I didn't take you seriously," he defended weakly.

"And aren't you sorry you didn't?"

"Connie, this is none of your concern," he growled.

"Oh yes it is. If I'm going to be working with Miss Evershed on this team and you're going to be our Section Head, having the both of you moping about isn't going to do anyone any good. You have to sort this out, Harry, and soon."

"And how do you suggest I do that?"

Connie sighed at him in exasperation. "You beg her forgiveness, you fool. You tell her you should have known better than to ask her to marry you so soon after she'd come home, that you realize she needs time to readjust to life here, and you won't bring up the subject again."

It was a bit unnerving that Connie knew Ruth's protestations to his marriage proposal nearly verbatim. "Why would I tell her any of that?" Harry felt the tips of his ears begin to grow warm. He and Connie did _not_ have conversations like this. At least not in his office, and not first thing in the morning, and certainly not without a glass of whiskey in their hands.

She sighed again, this time in a much kindlier fashion. "Harry, you love that woman. And honestly, now that I've met her—briefly, but still—I can't say I can see what you see in her, but I can see that she's something special. There is a certain something about her. She is instantly likable, something your previous women have severely lacked."

Harry grumbled a bit on that point, despite knowing that Connie was absolutely correct.

"So do yourself a favor and just give her a bit of space and time. If she loves you like you love her, she'll come around. But you've got to remember that you are a bull in a china shop when it comes to emotions, and you're far too used to getting your way. You can't bully the woman into marrying you. So just…just leave her be. It'll all end up alright."

And with that, Connie got up and left Harry's office. After all, she had work to do. So did Harry, actually. Calls and emails and paperwork wouldn't see to themselves. Later, of course, he would have to speak with Ruth, if he could. If she even wanted him to. He had been so certain when she'd come over to his on Friday evening and fallen asleep nestled in his arms that they were going to be alright, that they'd settle back together and perhaps forget the foolish blunder Harry had made in proposing. But she had left and not spoken to him. He'd done as she'd asked, he hadn't contacted her. It nearly killed him, but he'd left her be. Had that been enough time? Was Connie correct, telling him to give Ruth more time and space? Well yes, of course Connie was correct. She usually was.

He scrubbed his face with his hands, marveling at how he could already feel drained within the first twenty minutes of the day. Harry knew how lucky he was, that Ruth was back and at least a part of her still loved him. And he was lucky to have Connie, looking out for him and knocking a bit of sense into hm when he needed it. He certainly needed it, much to his own chagrin. But even so, the events of the morning had exhausted him already.

Harry looked out the window of his office, out onto the Grid where things were starting to bustle like normal. Ruth looked up from her station, and they made eye contact. And then, miraculously, Ruth smiled. And Harry smiled. Ros approached her desk, taking Ruth's attention away, and the moment was lost. But that was alright. That was perfectly normal.

Normal. What a lovely thing.


	51. Chapter 51

"Harry, you're a bit of a tosser."

Both Harry and Ruth gasped at that remark coming from Penny's child mouth. "Where did you learn to say that?" Harry asked in shock.

"Ros," Penny replied with a shrug.

Harry wasn't surprised at all by that answer. But regardless of what Ros may have said about him in the child's presence, it was less the insult that took him aback so much as being called 'Harry.' He certainly did not like hearing Penny call him by his first name.

Ruth took over then. "You shouldn't call him 'Harry,'" she explained, reading his mind as always. "And even if he was being a tosser, it's rude to say so. And I know you know better than to be rude."

Penny averted her gaze and giggled slightly. "Sorry."

Harry just grumbled a bit to himself. She'd never called him 'Harry,' as far as he could recall. Even Catherine always had the decency to call him 'Dad.'

"It's just a phase, love," Ruth told him reassuringly. "Didn't you go through that as a child, wanting to be more grown up by calling adults by their first name?"

"No, I always called people Mister or Missus."

"Perhaps she could call you 'Sir Harry,' then," Ruth suggested, mirth dancing in her eyes.

"I don't find that funny, Ruth."

"I didn't find if funny when you proposed to me twice in one week after I hadn't seen or heard from you in seven months," she snapped. The memories of that time, of the confusion and stress of it all, still hit her a bit too hard sometimes.

"I wasn't trying to be funny," he told her quietly. After all, he was still a bit hurt by her rejection. The sting of it had lessened, of course, but it hadn't truly gone away.

Ruth gave him a sad little smile. "Yes, I know," she replied softly.

Penny, still not enjoying being ignored, tugged at Ruth's arm. "But why didn't you want to marry him if you loved him?"

It suddenly occurred to Ruth that this story—particularly this part of the story—was far too complex for a small child. Not just in skating over the sex and violence of it all, but in the intricate nuance of the emotions. Sometimes Ruth had worried that she and Harry were built of intricate nuance, that their relationship was as fragile as a house of cards, ready to fall apart from the slightest ripple of discontent. And Harry's ill-timed proposals nearly did just that. She explained, "I loved him more than anything. But I was so scared of that. I wasn't scared anymore what other people thought, because everyone knew by then. But what scared me was that Harry was such a force of nature, such a strong personality, that I'd get swallowed up in the process. I always felt weak and afraid, and even though Harry made me feel loved and safe, and even though I had no doubts about his love for me, I had doubts in myself. That I wouldn't be enough for him, that I'd lose myself and lose who I was and instead just turn into a woman who lived and breathed Harry Pearce. I could feel it happening, and I didn't know what to do. And as with everything, when I got scared, I ran away."

As Ruth explained her feelings—something she'd never done to him directly about that time in their relationship—Harry had an epiphany. "But you came back."

"Yes, obviously."

"No, I mean…every time you ran away, Ruth, every time you got frightened and shut me out, you always came back to me. We had Havensworth and then that night at my house and then on the Grid. You always came back."

Ruth met Harry's eyes. Her gaze was filled with love. "Of course I came back, Harry. You may not have realized it then, but I hope you do by now: I will always come back to you. I love you too much to ever stay away for too long. Even when I was scared, being with you was always safe and beautiful, and I've never wanted to give that up for good. I can't. Not ever."

The bloom of warmth that filled Harry's chest in that moment was like dazzling sunshine. And if Penny weren't sitting right there on the sofa, he probably would have pulled Ruth into his arms and kissed her till neither of them could breathe. They'd been together quite a long time by now, but it never ceased to astound him that this incredible, perfect woman could love a grumpy old sod like him, that she could love him so very much. But she did. She really did.


	52. Chapter 52

_Early Autumn 2007_

It took some time—a few months, in fact—but Ruth and Harry developed an easy routine. It was much as it was before her time in exile, them staying over at each other's houses, dividing their time and spending a few nights apart each month when there was work and other obligations that called to them. The cats were very pleased to be back in their original home. Scarlett missed them, but she was nearly blind by now, so she didn't notice too much. The normalcy of their lives, the uncomplicated nature of their relationship, it was all very comforting to Harry. He had wisely not tried to ask any more of Ruth than she seemed willing to give, and things had drifted along quite nicely.

The Grid was running like clockwork. Having two veritable geniuses working together as analysts was a godsend. Malcolm and Connie and Ruth planned and ran every operation to perfection. Zaf and Jo, under Ros's leadership, were exemplary field agents. They were like a well-oiled machine. Home Secretary William Towers could not find an end to his praise for Harry and his team. Normally, Harry did not put much stock in the opinion of politicians, but on this front, he could not help but wholeheartedly agree.

On an altogether average Thursday, Ruth had left the Grid at lunchtime to get some air. She and Connie had both been working all night on translations and research. Ruth had some language skills that Connie did not, and Connie's institutional memory aided her in searching files much more quickly. But Ruth had finished her translations for the time being until Connie dug up more intel for her, so the older woman had suggested Ruth go out and pick up some food for them.

"I had curry yesterday, and I cannot abide Thai food, but anything else, I'll be happy," Connie had told her.

Ruth smiled. "How about some pork pies from the pub up the road?"

"No wonder Harry's in love with you, good lord," Connie teased.

And Ruth laughed in response. There had been a time not too long before when such a comment would have turned her beet-red and made her stomach tie in knots. But not now. Now, she took great pride in the knowledge that Harry loved her and she loved him. The world had already tried to take advantage of that fact, but they had persevered and survived the very worst.

As she walked along the Thames, breathing in the fresh air and marveling at the September sun glistening off the water, Ruth allowed herself a little fantasy about her Harry. She'd go to his tonight, she decided. She'd pour them some wine and sit him down on the bed and watch him watch her take off all her clothes for him. He'd like that, she thought. She could almost picture the look on his face as she seductively peeled each layer from her body, and she'd tell him to stroke himself as he got hard for her. That thought alone was making her a bit weak in the knees.

Her salacious daydream was interrupted by the shrill ringing of her mobile. It was a blocked number, which was hardly of any concern, given their line of work. A blocked number often meant Whitehall. Though why anyone with enough importance to have a blocked number was calling her mobile, she had no idea.

"Hello?" she answered warily.

"Do not say my name, do not let anyone know that this call is important. Do you recognize my voice?" the caller demanded.

"Yes," Ruth choked out. Her blood had turned to ice. She did recognize that voice. It was a voice she thought she'd never hear again. And because she was hearing it, she was instantly terrified.

"Where are you?"

"Walking by the river."

"Good. Stay in public. Do not react. Do not ask questions. Just listen very carefully. I haven't got much time."

"Okay," she squeaked.

"You need to tell him that Sugarhorse has been compromised. Tell him that I have been here deep for long enough that I've been able to learn enough to know that they know about it, and they learned it from Pilgrim. I don't know who that is, but he has to find out. Repeat that back to me. What are you going to tell him?"

"Sugarhorse has been compromised. You know enough to learn that they know about it. They learned about it from Pilgrim. We have to find out who that is," Ruth recited back to the caller.

"Good. Now, don't try to get into contact with me again." There was a pause on the line before the caller sighed slightly. "Goodbye, Ruth." And then the call ended.

Ruth did not waste a second. She practically tripped over her own shoes as she hurried back to Thames House as fast as her clumsy feet would take her. She did not stop until she was back on the Grid, throwing off her coat at her station and going straight to Harry's office.

Connie watched her and called out with slight annoyance, "Ruth, where are my pork pies?!"

Harry was sitting in his office trying to get through some extremely dull reports when Ruth came crashing in, closed the door behind her, and pulled the blinds. "I don't think now is a good time for a quick midday shag, Ruth," he quipped.

She completely ignored that comment and launched right into it. "I've just had a call."

"Alright."

"I was told to tell you that Sugarhorse has been compromised."

Harry felt the bottom drop out of him. If he had not been sitting, he probably would have collapsed. "What?!"

"They learned about if from Pilgrim. And we need to find out who that is," Ruth said, giving the last part of the message.

"Who told you this? Who told you that the Russians know about Sugarhorse?" he demanded desperately.

Ruth was unaware that the Russians were involved, but obviously the 'him' she was supposed to tell was Harry, and the 'they' who knew about Sugarhorse—whatever that was—were the Russians. Ruth revealed the identity of the caller whose voice she would know anywhere. "Tom Quinn."

Harry fell silent and dropped his face into his hands. Ruth stayed where she was, waiting for him to say something else. Anything else. But he just sat there, unspeaking.

She could not take the swirling tension of being thoroughly out of the loop. Ruth Evershed was not a woman who appreciated not knowing things. "Harry, what is Sugarhorse?" she asked softly.

He lifted his head, and she expected his gaze to be kind and perhaps a bit sad. But his eyes were steely. "Ruth, you forget you ever heard that name. You don't mention anything about this to anyone ever again, do you understand?" His voice was hard and cold.

"What?" she asked in return, stunned by his reaction. "Harry, Tom called _me_. I can't just do nothing! Tell me what's going on, what this is. Let me help!"

But Harry was firm. "No, Ruth, we are not doing this again. I will not let some outside force manipulate you into manipulating me. You will not be involved, and that is final!"

"No one is going to use me," she insisted. "As a matter of fact, I will not allow it."

" _You_ won't allow it? You haven't got any say in the matter!"

"Harry, if you don't trust me, what's the bloody point of any of this?"

He was not sure when their burgeoning fight had shifted focus from spycraft to their relationship, but here they were. "We will not have this discussion," Harry commanded.

"You've got to stop trying to protect me all the time! You don't always know what's best, and if you expect us to have any sort of future here or at home, I need you to let me help!"

"Ruth…" he warned.

But she continued to rail against him. "What do you think will happen if you shut me out of this? Whatever this is, it's important. You can't hide from me."

In his heart of hearts, Harry knew she was right. He knew that she only ever wanted to help, he knew that she was more of a help than a hindrance in every conceivable circumstance, and he knew that he needed her by his side in every single aspect of his life if he was ever going to continue to survive the world they inhabited. But this was not a concern for their relationship. Harry could not just tell his girlfriend state secrets because she was feeling left out. If he did tell her, that wouldn't be the situation at all; Ruth was a brilliant analyst and her expertise was a vital asset to any operation. But still, he needed to proceed with caution.

"Fine," Ruth said finally, not wanting to wait any longer for him. "I'll just go then,"

She was pouting and he did not like to indulge that childish behavior, particularly because Ruth was usually above such petty things. "Ruth, wait," he called out to her.

Her quick stride was halted, and she turned back toward him.

"I will tell you. I swear I will. But I need to do some digging of my own first. And no one can know. Not even Ros or Malcolm or Connie. No one. Please, just give me some time to sort some things out before I bring you into this. It's not just about us, and it certainly isn't because I don't trust you. I trust you with anything and everything, Ruth. But this is…delicate."

"Top Secret?"

"More than that."

Her eyebrows jumped up her forehead with intrigue.

Harry exhaled and confided, "Ruth, before you said that Tom mentioned Sugarhorse, I was under the distinct impression that I am one of two people alive on this earth who knew that Sugarhorse even existed."

She was quiet for a moment, processing what he said. But her eyes never left his. And at last, she asked, "So what do we do about it?"

"First I'm going to see the extent to which Sugarhorse may be compromised. That I must do on my own. And then, when I get a better sense of what's going on, we will figure out what to do next."

"We?"

"Yes, Ruth. We."


	53. Chapter 53

_Autumn 2007_

Ruth was in her house and sharing a bottle of wine with a friend. Such a nice thing, to have a friend. Ruth hadn't ever really been one to have many friends. Not like this. Not another woman with whom she felt comfortable enough to share anything and everything. And it was even nicer to have a friend who seemed to like her cats.

"So what's Harry doing tonight that allows you to be free to drink wine on a Tuesday evening with me, hmm?"

"Harry is at his own house doing whatever it is he does on his own. Just because we're together doesn't mean I don't still need time on my own. And I'm sure Harry does, too. He's not the most personable man in the world. I imagine if we were together at work and at home all day every day, we'd get rather sick of each other," Ruth answered with a slight laugh.

"Oh I don't know about that. Didn't he try to propose to you? Marriage would get him exactly that, and I think it is what he wants."

Ruth sat down after pouring them each another glass of wine. She took a long sip and sighed. "Honestly, Connie, I don't think he knows what he wants. I know he loves me, but marriage is a very different thing. And he wasn't very good at it the first time."

Connie nodded, absent-mindedly petting Mopsy on her lap. "You're very different than his first wife."

"Did you know her?"

"Not well. But I did meet her a few times. She was very tall and blonde and assertive. Not one to get pushed around, that Jane Townsend. Unless, of course, she was in one of her moods."

This was news to Ruth, and that terribly nosy part of her that made her a good analyst was gnawing at her now. "Moods?"

"Jane suffered frequent bouts of depression. They didn't really have a proper term for it then, I don't think. But we all knew it contributed to the divorce. Harry was never around. And when he wasn't working, he didn't have the patience to care for her the way she needed. Frankly, the way she deserved. She retreated from him, and in the end, they were nothing more than two people who shared dresser drawers. Between Jane's depression and Catherine's flights of fancy and Graham's drug abuse, Harry's never really been one to seek out another family for himself," Connie confided.

"Poor love," Ruth breathed, mostly to herself.

"You're different, though. And actually, Harry's different. I hadn't seen him in quite some time before he called me out of the blue to come back to the Grid while you were gone. So I don't know when the change in him really started. But I'd wager it's thanks to you that he's softer and kinder now. And he's finally got something to live for that isn't just his duty to the job. And that's definitely you."

Ruth blushed and took another sip of her wine.

Their glasses had gone empty again, so Connie got up to fetch the bottle—Ruth didn't like to keep it too close in case the cats wanted to knock it over. On her way back, she paused at Ruth's bookshelf. "Quite the collection you've got here."

"I read Classics at Oxford," Ruth explained with a wry smile.

"That makes sense. Look at all of these! Ovid, Homer, Sophocles, Dante. Oh the Inferno is one of my favorites," Connie noted, pulling out Ruth's well-worn copy.

"I've read it a dozen times, I think."

Connie flipped open a page. "Tiresias, who changed his sex from man to woman and back to man, wandering the Inferno as the blind prophet of Thebes."

"The symbolism of all those mythological characters is utterly incredible, isn't it?"

"Yes," Connie answered softly. "It is."

Meanwhile, on the other side of London, Harry had finally poured himself a glass of scotch and turned on his stereo to play some Mendelsohn and sit down to review the Pilgrim file more closely. He'd been working with Connie for weeks now, trying to get to the bottom of the Sugarhorse mole. He'd talked to Qualtrough in his little bookshop as they untangled the web they'd woven all those years ago with Hugo Prince. Connie knew nothing about it, of course, despite having been Hugo's lover for so long. Good old Hugo, keeping his mouth shut when it counted. But Hugo was long dead, Qualtrough had left the Service over a decade earlier, and Harry and Connie were at a loss.

The murky lines had begun to grow clearer, however, thanks to Connie's research. Pilgrim was a Russian codename from the KGB given to their mole in MI-5. The records were long-buried, and for good reason. Harry had gone to the archives and retrieved the old file himself. It was Qualtrough. That bastard. He'd sent Harry on a wild goose chase and nearly gotten away with it. The man was probably dust in the wind by now, back in Moscow where the FSB would laud him for his efforts.

Harry had called Ros into his office to share the news with her and brief her on Sugarhorse. "I've cultivated assets within the highest levels of the Russian government. We started as the Berlin wall fell, knowing the Kremlin wasn't far behind. We have sleepers all throughout Russia, but none of us knew the other's assets. Before Hugo died, he passed half his assets on to me and the other half to Richard Dolby. Our network was called Sugarhorse. And it's been compromised. There was a mole within MI-5 called Pilgrim, feeding information back to Russia. And I have his file here. I'm going to review this myself tonight, and tomorrow, we can brief the rest of the team."

"Who all knows?" Ros asked.

"Only Connie and myself. And now you."

"Not Ruth?"

"She received the message to convey to me that Sugarhorse was compromised. But she doesn't know what it is. She knows her place, Ros, and I hope you know yours," Harry warned, hoping she'd get the hint to keep his personal life out of their work for the time being.

Ros, ever the professional, nodded curtly and left the office. Harry watched her out the window of his office as she spoke to Connie, who then looked to Harry. He briefly held up the file for her to see, and she nodded to him in understanding.

But now he was home and alone. Scarlett was fed and taken care of. Ruth was at her house with her cats; he'd told her he needed the evening to himself to work, which she had not minded whatsoever. Things were going very well between them now. She had not bothered him about Sugarhorse again. He had not bothered her about marriage again. Everything was easy and happy. Harry was happy.

Before he got too swept up in the joys of her personal life—a circumstance he'd never found himself in before—he settled into his chair with the Pilgrim file. He opened to the first page, expecting to see Qualtrough's face there as he had earlier that day.

The only face Harry saw was his own. He put his scotch down and frantically turned every page. Everything in the Pilgrim file had his name and his information in it. All the operations run by Pilgrim pointed to Harry Pearce. According to the file in his hands, it was Harry who was the traitorous mole.

His mobile rang even as his mind was trying to parse out who could have possibly replaced the file with this fake designed to frame him. Numbly, he answered the phone.

"Harry?"

He swallowed hard. "Yes, Home Secretary?"

"I needed to call to make sure that Sugarhorse is still in place. With the Russians and the Americans at each other's throats over missiles placed in Syria, your network is more important than ever in keeping Russia from starting World War Three."

"Yes, of course."

"Can you guarantee that Sugarhorse is not compromised?"

Harry considered his words carefully. "Sugarhorse is as secure as it ever was," he replied.

"Good."

The line went dead and Harry put his phone down on the side table. He got up from where he was sitting. He knew what was happening. He knew what was coming. He could do nothing about it, not now. He'd find a way out of this, as the truth always came to light in the end. Time and again, Harry had found that to be true. He was not a traitor, he was not a mole, he was not Pilgrim. Eventually, that would be made known. But not yet.

He helped Scarlett hobble into the kitchen and closed her in with a bowl of water and her little cozy bed. After that, he poured himself more scotch and turned up the Mendelsohn. He sent a quick text to Ruth asking her to feed Scarlett for him tomorrow. She did not respond right away, and he did not expect her to. He sat in his favorite armchair and drank his scotch, listening to the beautiful music.

The melody was so entrancing that he could still hear it over the shouts of armed officers storming into his house. Harry complied with their orders, getting down on his knees with his hands up in surrender. The music played on.


	54. Chapter 54

_Autumn 2007_

"What do you mean!?" Ruth shouted. It was not normally in her nature to raise her voice to a superior, so everyone around her was rightfully shocked by the situation. But when Richard Dolby called Ruth into the briefing room to join Ros and Connie to be told that Harry had been arrested for treason and that she was suspended until further notice, she was rather thrown onto the back foot.

Ros spoke gently to her, something that was just as rare as Ruth shouting. "Connie did all the research. Mr. Dolby was involved with the original operation. Harry briefed me himself. He knew the walls were closing in. He's being questioned. But because of the nature of your relationship with him, we can't have you on the Grid while all this is going on, not till you're cleared of involvement."

"I am going to interview you myself, Ms. Evershed. And it will be in your best interest to be as truthful and forthright as possible," Dolby told her sternly.

Ruth shook her head in complete disbelief. "I haven't anything to do with this. And neither does Harry. He's not a traitor. Especially for the Russians, good lord! Connie, you know him better than anyone! You know he isn't the mole!" she implored.

Connie did not look up. She stared at a spot on the table and did not say a single word or give any indication that she even heard Ruth's plea.

"Give us the room, please," Dolby requested. Ros and Connie filed out swiftly, leaving Ruth alone to proclaim her innocence and Harry's as well.

Harry himself was being interrogated by the best of the best. Charles Grady was known for his ruthless methods of intelligence-gathering. Already Harry had been subjected to bright flashing lights and loud screeching noises while he was forced in uncomfortable positions with his hands fastened in front of him. The plastic was digging into his wrists but he couldn't bother to care about that. He just had to stay sane, just had to withstand the onslaught. He had already explained that he was being framed, but to no avail. The truth would come out. Harry needed to only survive with his mind intact until he was exonerated.

The lights went out and the noises stopped. The ringing in his ears continued, but at least he had a slight reprieve. Grady's voice came from the darkness. "Ready to talk, Harry?"

"I have been ready to talk since we began. I have already told you the truth. I will be happy to tell you again," he said. His voice sounded odd to his own ears. Probably the exhaustion and the residual effect of the sensory overload.

"Oh Harry, we've not really even begun."

Before he could say anything else, a needle was jabbed into his neck. Whatever substance had entered his bloodstream would take effect extremely quickly. Too quickly for Harry to properly prepare his weakened mind. But of course, that was entirely the point.

Ruth had gone straight to Harry's when Dolby had her escorted from the building. She knew that there were officers following her, that she'd be under surveillance. After all, she was Harry's girlfriend—good lord that term sounded a bit pathetic at their ages. Partner, perhaps? It was probably a more accurate description, but Ruth had never really liked it. Whatever she and Harry were to each other, it wasn't easily defined by some silly label.

Harry's text message to her the night before, which she had not seen until Connie left for the evening, finally made sense. He wanted her to go over and feed Scarlett. He had known that he would be apprehended. And he wanted to make sure that his little dog was taken care of. And, knowing Harry, he probably meant for Ruth to be the one to care for the dog so that Ruth herself had something to focus on during the entire debacle. She would have been a mess, sitting alone at home. But being tasked with caring for the elderly Scarlett was a task she could surely manage to keep her from getting too caught up in her own mind.

When she arrived at Harry's, dispensing with the security system with practiced ease, she was not greeted by the tapping of paws on the hardwood floor. It was odd that Scarlett should not come to greet her. Ruth hung up her coat and wandered the house, seeing almost immediately that the kitchen door was closed up tight.

And there was Scarlett, snug in her bed beside the kitchen cabinet. "Hello, Scarlett," Ruth greeted with a smile. Ordinarily, Scarlett liked to get up and wag her tail and come over to say hello, but today she didn't. Ruth went to let her out into the yard to do her business if she needed to. But Scarlett was uninterested.

There was every chance that Scarlett's poor eyesight had finally left her totally blind. Perhaps she was a bit deaf, too. A dog should be able to sniff and tell that a person had arrived in the room. But Scarlett had no reaction at all. Ruth knelt down to scratch her ears. She made a little sound of appreciation and gave a slow lick on Ruth's hand. She otherwise did nothing.

Ruth brought over the water dish to encourage her to drink, which she did. Her tongue darted from her mouth and lapped up some water, but it was a slow process. Ruth had figured out then that Scarlett had no interest or perhaps no ability to get up. She fed the dog dry kibble from her hand. Scarlett ate a few bits very slowly.

It was all getting to be a bit too much for Ruth. Harry was wrongfully arrested as a traitor. His dog had been left in her care but was doing exceedingly poorly. And Ruth could no longer combat the lump in her throat.

As she cried and tried to feed Scarlett from her hand, Ruth spoke softly to the dog to try and reassure the both of them. "It's going to be alright, Scarlett. Harry's coming back home. Harry will be alright. You know he loves us both so very much. He'll never really leave us. He promised me that he'd never let go of me ever again. And I'm holding him to that. I know he often makes promises he can't keep, though he tries not to. I know he might not be able to keep his promise to me. To us. I'm sure he promised you the day he brought you home as a little puppy that he'd always love and care for you. And I know he's done a good job for the most part. He's tried. Because you know as well as I do, Scarlett, that our Harry is a good man. He's the very best. He has to do terrible things and make awful choices, and sometimes bad things happen. But he does it all for the very best purposes, to make sure that the world can keep turning as it should."

Scarlett had stopped eating and drinking. Her breathing was slowing, and she closed her eyes. Ruth pet her soothingly, crying even harder.

"Please, Scarlett, please wait for Harry to get back. Please don't leave me here alone. I want us to both be here for him when he gets home. Just hold on a little longer for us. We love you so much!" Ruth sobbed.

But it was for naught. The shallow rise and fall of the dog's body stopped. Ruth gathered the little dog in her arms, sitting there in the corner of Harry's kitchen, and cried into her fur as the warmth of her body started to dissipate.

Harry was not weeping, just then, though he quite nearly wanted to. Grady was speaking to him, talking about the personality traits of a double agent. Secretive nature, alcohol abuse, trouble with personal relationships.

"Your wife's depression? Your son's drug abuse? They're your fault too, aren't they?"

"You leave my family out of this!" Harry slurred.

His mind was filled with an image of Graham on a carousel, the one time Harry had taken him to the park. He couldn't have been older than four or five. That was about the time he'd stopped trying to remember the weekends he was supposed to have the children. Catherine had been ill, so only Graham had come to stay with him for the three days. Harry had wanted to do something fun. Something memorable. The boy was probably too young to have it make an impression. Graham probably didn't remember it at all, notwithstanding the opiates coursing through his mind. But Harry remembered. He could hear his son call out, "Daddy!" as the carousel horse he rode passed by. Around and around.

"You've got no one, Harry," Grady told him. "You've got no one who cares if you live or die."

"Ruth," Harry choked out. "Ruth…I promised…Never let go…" It was difficult to form the words now, his brain was so jumbled.

Grady chuckled at that. "Ah yes, Ruth Evershed. You think she'd want anything to do with a traitor? Didn't she escape into exile taking the fall for you? How do you think she'll feel about having made that sacrifice for a man who passes information to the Russians, hmm?"

Harry couldn't answer that. He couldn't speak, just then. His mind was still filled with the carousel, with Graham's voice calling to him. But he turned, hearing another voice call out, "Daddy!" He saw Ruth standing nearby with a bundle in her arms. She was happy and smiling, looking absolutely radiant. The bundle was a blue blanket. A tiny little hand was wrapped around her finger and she waved toward him. "Say hi to Daddy," she cooed to the bundle. "Daddy's coming home soon!"

"The names, Harry. Tell us the names of the Sugarhorse assets you've given over."

Grady's voice ripped Harry away from his happy hallucination. He blinked hard, forcing his head back to the present reality. "I need to speak with Ros Myers. I need to explain. After that, I'll give you the names."

And at that, Grady smiled an evil sort of grin. "I'll make a call."


	55. Chapter 55

_Autumn 2007_

Harry desperately wanted a shower and a twelve-hour night's sleep, but he had to make do with a fresh suit that Jo had asked Ruth to bring him from home. He desperately wanted to have a bit of time alone with Ruth as well, but there were other things that took precedence at the moment.

He walked out from his office to find Zaf holding Connie in handcuffs. Ros stood nearby staring daggers at the woman they all thought had been on their side. And poor Ruth, absolutely shattered from the whole ordeal, had red eyes and tear-stained cheeks as she watched her friend admit to being a Russian mole for the last fifteen years.

"I am sorry, Harry," Connie said as he approached.

"Sorry you got caught? Sorry that I remembered Operation Renaissance and Ros was clever enough to find the truth from my message?" he snarled.

Connie glanced from Harry to Ruth and back to him. "No. Things changed and I'm sorry it had to go like this. Ruth wasn't supposed to get involved. You weren't supposed to get involved."

Harry just rolled his eyes. "Save us the crocodile tears. You thought that bunker was a bit claustrophobic? Just wait till you see where we're going to put you." He nodded at Zaf. "Get her out of here."

Zaf and Ros both accompanied Connie off the Grid. Malcolm and Jo were tasked with trying to plug up the holes in their security caused by Connie's efforts. Ruth followed Harry back to his office.

"We didn't get a chance to talk," she said, closing the door behind them and shutting the blinds to give them a scant amount of privacy.

"No, and we do need to talk, but later, please. Can I just hold you for a little while?"

"Please," she answered, hurrying into his open arms. They held each other tightly, breathing in the other. "I can't do this anymore, Harry," Ruth murmured after a time.

Harry stroked her hair and tried not to let his heart drop at her words. "Can't do what?" he asked warily.

She pulled back slightly to look up at him. "I can't spend another day and night worrying if you're dead or alive, if you're hurting, if I'll ever see you again. We spent seven long, awful months apart, and I don't want to do it anymore."

"That's the job, Ruth," he said, lightly caressing her cheek. "You know that as well as I do. We do the job because it's more important than our own worries. We suffer to save millions."

"I know," she sighed. "I know you're right, and I know that tomorrow when things are back to normal, I'll be reminded of how much I love the work and how much good we can do with the skills we possess. But just for right now, I just want to whine about it."

Harry chuckled at that and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "Alright, darling, you whine all you want. Now that we've saved the remnants of Sugarhorse and Connie's been taken down, we can go home and cuddle with the animals and have a drink and pass out on the sofa."

Ruth's face fell at that, and she chewed on her lip anxiously. Tears welled up in her eyes again.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, seeing the change in her expression.

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry, but…while you were away…Scarlett…" Her voice caught and her tears began to fall.

Harry hugged her tight again, understanding what she was telling him. "I know she wasn't doing well. It was only a matter of time. She could barely walk when I put her to bed that night I was arrested. It's alright, Ruth, she's not in pain anymore."

Ruth just cried harder.

A knock sounded on the office door, causing them to spring apart. Ruth made her way to the corner to dry her eyes and get ahold of herself. Harry's voice cracked as he called for the visitor to enter.

Malcolm came into the office with a printout. "We just got this communique from the asset in Russia."

Harry knew that meant Tom Quinn. Ros had been informed of the way Tom had called Ruth about Sugarhorse to begin with. "Tiresias awakes? And this code? What the hell is Tiresias?" Harry asked, reading the page.

Ruth immediately perked up. "Tiresias?"

"Yes, you know what it is?"  
A choked little laugh fell from her lips. "Character from old myth. Mentioned in Dante's Inferno. I don't know what it means here but…Connie does."

"What?!"

"She mentioned it. When she was at my house the other night. Harry, she must have been trying to warn me about something. I think maybe she was actually sorry."

This was not a theory Harry wished to entertain about the woman who had been like a sister to him for half his life who had turned out to be selling their country to the enemy. "Ruth, do you have any idea how many lives have been lost thanks to her passing intel?"

Ruth held her ground and her steely gaze. "And how many more do you think could be lost if we don't try to get her to help us now?"

The tension-filled silence was interrupted by the shrill ringing of Ruth's mobile. The call came from a blocked number. She answered it immediately.

"Ruth, I found Tiresias?"

"Who is it?"

"Not who. What. It's an old KGB operation. They had their own Sugarhorse. Only its more extensive than we could have ever imagined. The Russians have a sleeper network in the whole of the United Kingdom. Have Malcolm check the old radio codes. I think there's going to be a major attack."

The line went dead and Ruth's face drained of blood.

"What is it?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Tom called again. Tiresias is the Russian version of Sugarhorse. And it's been activated. He said Malcolm should check the old radio codes."

Malcolm did not need further instruction. He ran out of the room immediately.

Harry sighed heavily. "We need Connie."

"But she's being transferred to…"

"I know," he snapped. "Get Ros and Zaf to get her back."

"Get her back how?" Ruth asked incredulously.

Harry amended his earlier statement. " _Take_ her back."

And within two hours, Harry was in an abandoned warehouse with Ros and Ruth beside him and Connie tied to a chair with a bag over her head. He nodded to Ros who pulled the bag off her.

"Hello again," he said coldly.

She just sighed. "You know they'll know it was you who took me. Judging by the location and the company, I assume this is black ops. So now you've got Five and the Russians to contend with, is that it?"

Harry ignored her, though she was entirely correct. Bloody irritating, given the circumstances. "Tiresias. Tell me what's being planned."

If he expected her to smile with pride, he was taken by surprise again. Connie's whole face filled with fear. "It's been activated?"

"Yes. Malcolm's found the code broadcast on the old radio frequency. Tell me what it means."

She nodded shakily. "I'll tell you. I need to hear it. And I'll tell you."

Ros pulled out her mobile to call Malcolm who was standing by for just this purpose, but Harry stopped her. "Hang on. You've not asked for anything in return. How am I supposed to believe now, after everything, that you're going to help us for nothing?"

Connie looked at him with an unabashed imploring expression. "I want to make it right. I thought this was all behind me, you see. When you encouraged me to retire, I took the opportunity. I told Bernard that I was out, that I was done. He seemed to accept that. But when you asked me back, Harry, I couldn't refuse you. I didn't want to. I wanted to go back to what we used to have in our heyday, you and me and Malcolm fighting the good fight. We still had a bit of fight left in us, didn't we?"

Harry nodded gently, still silently waiting for the catch, waiting for the purpose behind her duplicity and her supposed change of heart.

She went on, "It was Christmas that decided it for me. Hearing about you and your Ruth. Reminded me of what I had with Hugo. And how much I wish I could have just treasured the time I had with him and not sold his secrets to the Russians."

Ruth, standing a few paces behind Harry, came to place a soft hand on his arm. "Harry, we're wasting time with all this. She can't do anything here, we can keep an eye on her. Let's just get her information and go from there." The entire conversation, particularly the part that seemed to hinge on herself and Harry in changing Connie's mind, was making her distinctly uncomfortable.

Harry nodded to Ros, and she called Malcolm, who read the code out over the speaker.

Connie gave a sharp inhale.

"What? What's it mean?" Harry demanded.

"I don't remember all the codes perfectly. I've got them all written down, hidden away somewhere safe. But I do know some of that one. It refers to a specific sleeper who is being instructed to unearth an old suitcase bomb and put it somewhere in London to detonate at three in the afternoon. Where, I'm not sure. I'll need my notes," she told them.

"Suitcase bomb? Is that all?" Ros asked, surprised that Connie would react so much to what would, at worst, blow up a bus.

But Connie shook her head. "An old _Soviet_ suitcase bomb. Hidden away in old abandoned airfields all around the country."

"That was a myth," Harry breathed, wishing that he was correct, that it wasn't real.

Connie shook her head again. "It was all a part of Tiresias. No myth."

Harry turned to Ros and explained, "It's nuclear."

"Someone's going to put a nuclear suitcase bomb somewhere in London to detonate in two hours!?" Ros exclaimed, seeing the time on her watch.

"Yes, so if you'd kindly remove these restraints, I can go get my notes and we'll know where to go," Connie said.

"You can tell me where your notes are and we'll retrieve them," Harry insisted. "You're not going anywhere."

"I can do it faster than your team can, Harry, getting past my precautions."

Harry fought the urge to roll her eyes. Of course she boobytrapped her own notes. "Fine. But you're not going alone."

"You're right. I need Ruth with me."

It was Harry who reacted first. "Over my dead body! You'll have Ros to keep you in line and keep you from getting shot by the FSB who are undoubtedly out to capture you before you help us."

Connie glared at him. "Then send Ros, too. But I need Ruth. If you want this done quickly, I'll need another analyst to work on the code while I check the notes."

Ruth understood what she meant and spoke in a low tone to Harry, "I'll keep an eye on her. You've said yourself that my mind can match hers. If she tries anything, I'll know."

And that sealed it for Harry. He nodded. "Ros, don't let them out of your sight."

With that, the four of them all left the safehouse. Harry returned to the Grid and the three women went off into the underground to get to Connie's hiding place.

Malcolm could barely get a communications signal once they went underground, but Ros's mobile was able to make calls, thanks to Malcolm's tech improvements installed just the week before. Ruth stayed on the line to keep them informed of what was going on.

"We're nearly there. When we get the notes, I'm going to pass the phone to Ros so I can help Connie," she told them.

Harry was standing behind Malcolm, staring at the screen, following the GPS progress. "As soon as you get the location of the bomb, I'll send Zaf and Jo to retrieve it."

"Actually, we're going a level deeper, I don't think we'll be able to stay in contact. I'm signing off now," Ruth said. Her voice sounded hollow, at the end of a tunnel. They were losing the signal already.

The line cut out before she could hear Harry's response. Ruth just swallowed her fear and followed Connie, keeping her eyes and ears open. Ros brought up the rear, gun in hand, in case they were followed. Thankfully, the only trouble they ran into was that of a few mean vagrants and drug addicts finding refuge in the underground tunnels.

"Here we are," Connie announced. There was an old electrical panel in the brick wall. She pulled off the switchboard and took a cloth bag out from behind it. Inside, wrapped in plastic, was a notebook.

"I'd have thought you'd keep it encrypted," Ros noted.

"I did."

Connie opened the notebook and inside, everything was written in code.

"A code for the code?" Ruth asked, hating herself for being excited by the complexity of it all.

"You see why I needed you," Connie replied.

The two women worked diligently, using Ros's mobile as their only light source to read and decipher the codes. It took less than ten minutes to crack it. Only an hour before the detonation.

"Come on, we've got to get back into signal range so we can call the Grid," Ros said, hurrying the analysts along.

Back through the tunnels they went, back from whence they came. Ros called Harry as soon as there was a spark of signal and gave him the bomb location.

Connie ripped the phone out of her hands. "You've got to have them bring it here."

"Not bloody likely!"

"Harry, you know there isn't enough time for the bomb squad."

She was correct and he hated it. The bare truth was that the old Soviet bombs were highly specialized and very few people knew how to deal with them anymore. They had less than an hour, and that was not enough time to get to the bomb, neutralize the sleeper who had it, take it to a safe location, and then find someone who could disable it.

But Connie could disable it. And Connie was already underground, only a few blocks from where the detonation was supposed to occur. They didn't have any other choice.

Harry sprang into action. "Alright, Zaf and Jo, go to the park and get rid of the sleeper and get the bomb down to Connie. Then, you lot seal off the tunnels and get all the civilians out of range. Ruth, you come back to the Grid. Ros, you stay with Connie till it's all over."

Everyone did as they were told without question. All except Ruth. She did not leave Connie and Ros. She did not come back to the Grid. Because while Connie may have been the only one who could disable a Soviet nuclear suitcase bomb, Ruth had read up on them extensively in research she'd done for an operation a number of years before. She knew what was going to happen.

"Ruth, get going," Ros instructed about five minutes later while they waited for the bomb to be delivered.

"No, not yet. Connie, why didn't you tell Harry what's going to happen?"

"Because he won't like it, and we don't have time to argue," Connie replied.

Before Ros could ask what the hell they were talking about, Zaf arrived. "Jo's getting the area sealed off. I'm going to coordinate with the police. Ruth, you should head back."

"In a minute," she told him. "You go on ahead."

Zaf didn't need to be told twice. Jo needed his help, and there was important work for him to do.

Ruth turned her attention back to Connie. "I'd like to help. Until…"

"Yes, alright," the older woman agreed.

Ros didn't know what was going on, but she could sense it wasn't good. She called Harry. "Ruth is helping Connie disable the bomb, she's not leaving," she told their boss.

Harry began shouting, "Ruth, get out of there right now!"

"I'm not going to leave her, Harry. She's our friend, and I won't leave her till the very end," she shouted back at the speakerphone.

Connie, both eyes concentrating on the wires and ticking timer in front of her, explained the situation to Ros. "I'm going to remove the uranium so that the nuclear capabilities are neutralized. Ruth will take it and see that it's outside the blast zone. Because there's no way to disable the timer without detonating the bomb. Thankfully, once the uranium is gone, it's just a regular bomb. And so long as you're far enough away, you won't be in trouble."

"So we take the uranium and run?" Ros asked, horrified at the implications of this information.

"You will. If I don't keep hold of the wire, the bomb will detonate before you can get to a safe distance. We're at ninety seconds. Stop asking me questions."

"Ruth! Ruth, get out of there right now!" Harry yelled desperately through the phone.

"I've got uranium in my hands, Harry, so please shut up!" she replied shakily, letting her voice falter so her hands could remain steady as she took the nuclear core out of the bomb.

Harry pleaded, "Ros, please, for the love of God, make her go, get her out of there!"

"Yes, you don't need to beg," she replied. "Come on, Ruth, we've done all we can."

Ruth, despite seeing only twenty-eight seconds left on the timer, could not seem to move. There was so much she wanted to say to Connie, to the woman who was responsible for helping Harry bring her home, who had been a friend and confidante to them both, who had saved all of London, who was holding onto wires of a bomb that was about to kill her. "I…" she began.

"I know. You've got a life to live, Ruth, so go off and live it! Don't be afraid to be happy anymore," Connie interrupted sternly.

And all Ruth could do was nod as Ros practically dragged her away. The two of them ran as carefully and quickly as they could.

Harry waited on the line, listening for Ros or Ruth to tell him that they had made it away, that they were safe. But a great explosion sounded and the line went dead.


	56. Chapter 56

"Did you die?!"

Ruth looked down at Penny's wide eyes, terrified at where the story went from there. And she tried not to laugh, she really did. But little snort escaped her anyway. "No, little love, I'm right here," she reminded her.

Harry's eyes were filled with mirth as he too tried not to burst out laughing at the way the child got so involved.

Penny's little face scrunched up. "Oh. That makes sense."

"She didn't die, but I didn't know that at the time," Harry said, continuing on. "I was screaming into the phone, begging for Ros or Ruth to say something so I'd know they were alright. I actually ran off the Grid and drove over to the bomb site. No matter what had happened, I needed to see it for myself and be there. Luckily, Ros had made it up to the surface level and used Jo's mobile to call the Grid for backup. Malcolm apparently told her I was panicking, so she called my mobile next to assure me that they were safe and to ask me to kindly stop shouting at her."

"It was one of the more terrible experiences of my life," Ruth added. "Everything with Connie and having to protect the nuclear core from the blast and hiding behind a centuries-old wall in the underground with Ros."

"So you were okay?" Penny asked, still obviously concerned.

Harry nodded. "By the time I got to the site, they'd made their way out. The bomb squad was dealing with the nuclear core and the paramedics were helping everyone."

"I saw you come through the crowd and I am sure I scared the hell out of that medic when I screamed your name and came running toward you like that," Ruth remembered.

"Yes, we did make a bit of a scene. You leaping in to my arms and my knee nearly giving out and the two of us crying and holding each other," he chuckled. It was a wonder anyone had taken him at all seriously after that, what with the unabashed display of emotion he'd given in public and at an emergency site. But at the time, there was nothing for it. He had almost lost Ruth just a few months after getting her back. And he still hadn't slept after his prolonged torture and interrogation. Harry had been worked down to the nub and the last vestiges of his self-control had utterly shattered by seeing Ruth, covered in dust and little cuts and bruises from the rubble, running into his arms.

"Then what happened?"

Harry gave a soft smile to Penny. The story was nearly over, but there was a bit more to tell. She was an eager little thing, and it wouldn't do to keep her in any more suspense.


	57. Chapter 57

_Late Autumn 2007_

The dust settled, literally and figuratively, over the following month. But nothing felt the same. Nothing felt right anymore. They all tried to ignore it, press on, find their normalcy where they could get it.

But Malcolm was the first to give in. No, not give in, but rather accept the fact of the matter.

He came to Harry at the end of a long day, when everyone except Harry and Ruth had gone home for the day. That was usually how it was, after all. Ruth was the only Senior Analyst on the Grid, doing the work of about twelve. Harry was content to keep long hours because he had her with him all day and all night and no little dog needing him at home. But on that particular evening, he had assumed that everyone else had gone.

"Malcolm, what can I do for you?" Harry asked, trying not to let his exhaustion show too much.

"I'd like to retire, Harry," he said bluntly.

"What?"

"I'm tired. I've been thinking about it for a while now, ever since Connie…and I just don't know that I can get over this one. Everyone we've lost before, through all the years, it's been awful. But there was always more work to be done, a higher purpose to serve."

"There's still a higher purpose," Harry reminded him.

Malcolm shook his head. "Not for me. Not anymore. My mother won't be around for more than a year or two, if we're lucky. I'd like to spend more time with her."

Harry sighed, "I understand."

His whole countenance released some of his nervous tension. "I really hope you do. Because I know that if you asked me to stay, if you told me you needed me…I don't think I could ever refuse your call to duty."

A lump formed in Harry's throat at that. "I won't keep you, Malcolm. The Service has more than benefited from your skill. And I have been honored to have called you a brother in arms for all these years. But I won't ever make you stay. If you and Ruth could create a shortlist of replacements, we can move things along quickly for you."

"Thank you, Harry."

"Thank you, Malcolm."

Harry watched Malcolm leave and sat at his desk, thinking for quite a long time. He looked out onto the Grid and saw Ruth still hard at work, the glow of the computer screen casting eerie shadows on her lovely face. Harry set his own work aside and put on his coat before going out to collect her.

"Let's go to yours tonight, if it's alright," he murmured, gesturing for her to join him.

Ruth looked up at him curiously, seeing the weary look in his eyes. But she did not press him on it for the time being. She just nodded and packed up her things so they could spend the night at her house.

As they lay in bed that night, Harry found he could not sleep. He was in a quiet, contemplative mood, going over and over all the things Malcolm had said. There were things he needed to discuss with Ruth, but he wasn't quite ready to leap into it just yet. Instead, he started with a more roundabout question. "How much longer do you think we should keep up both houses?"

She rolled over to face him and place a loving hand on the old Oxford t-shirt covering his chest. "What's bothering you, love?" she asked softly.

"I've been thinking about where to go from here. The future. For me. For us. And as it stands now, we're both living at both our houses. So I thought I'd see what you thought about that."

Ruth knew he was asking much more than he was asking, so she considered her words carefully. "I like my house, Harry. I always have. And I like having you in it. But I also like your house and being with you there. I like being among your things and in a place where you feel like yourself. You don't get much opportunity for it elsewhere."

"I feel like myself here," he told her, "with you."

"Does that mean you want to move in?"

"Perhaps."

"Well, what else are you getting at?" she finally asked.

"I think it's time to retire. And if we retire, we might want to leave London altogether. We might move into a place of our own somewhere else." It was a big burden to lay at her feet in the middle of the night in bed, but he'd started this, knowing all too well that Ruth would see through him. And this was where they'd ended up.

Ruth withdrew her hand. "What do you mean 'if _we_ retire'? Who said I was retiring?"

Harry turned to face her as well, realizing he'd strayed a bit too far. "I just assumed that we would leave together."

"I have been back for less than six months, Harry. And I know I whined about the job during Sugarhorse and we barely escaped that with our lives and our freedom, but you know that I love this job. I love this work. It's…it's who I am. And without it, I don't know who I am."

He gave a heavy sigh and rolled back onto his back. "I think this is a topic best left for the morning."

"Yes, I'd say so." And with that, Ruth rolled away from him to face the other side of the bed.

Harry let the silence fall between them for a little while before he turned and wrapped her in his arms, softly kissing that spot just below her ear. "I won't go anywhere if I can't go with you," he whispered. "Whether we stay or go. I'm going to do it with you."

In spite of herself, Ruth smiled at that. She snuggled into his embrace and tried not to think about the implications of him wanting her to leave her job to be with him or the guilt of keeping him in a job he wanted to quit just so they could stay together. No, Ruth tried very hard to focus on the fact that Harry loved her more than anything and showed it to her in countless ways every single day. And it was that thought that allowed her to fall into a restful sleep.

Over the next few weeks, Ruth and Malcolm and Harry had found a new Technical Officer for the Grid. Young man by the name of Tariq Masood. He and Malcolm got along famously during the ten days of their overlap before Malcolm's final day. Ruth also liked Tariq, which was just as well because she was the one who worked with him most closely. He seemed a bit scared of Ros, but nearly everyone was. Jo and Zaf showed him the ropes, though, and the team got along quite well.

Still, it was hard to say goodbye to Malcolm. He'd be moving to a house his mother had kept in the country, so they would not see him as often as they might have if he'd stayed in London, even without working for the Service anymore. And it was difficult for spies to keep in touch with civilians.

Ruth went out on one unusually quiet day with Jo, not long after Malcolm had left. The two women had always been close; Ruth had been the mother hen of sorts to Jo when she'd first started. Women in the Service tended to either flock together or be mortal enemies, and Ruth and Jo were certainly the former. Ros was no one's enemy, but she was not the warm, friendly type. She was more apt to drink scotch in silence with Harry than she was to share a round of Merlot with Jo and Ruth. And it was a friendly ear that Ruth needed now.

"Jo, can I share something sort of personal with you?"

The younger woman smiled kindly. "As long as it isn't intimate details about Harry, you can share anything you like."

Ruth blushed slightly at that. "No, I wouldn't do that. But it is about Harry. Ever since Malcolm retired, I think he's been thinking more and more about doing that himself."

Jo bit her lip and frowned. "I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it? He's been at this a really long time. He's got you back and now after Connie and now Malcolm, he's had a bit of a rough year."

"Yes, I know. But he's basically asked me to leave with him. And I know it's a romantic sort of gesture, that he wants to be with me, but I don't think that's very fair. I've not been doing this job for thirty-plus years and gotten burned out. I don't want him to stay just for me, but I shouldn't have to leave just for him. I've never wanted to be the sort of woman who changes her whole life for a man, and I've worked so hard to get to where I am. And it's not because of Harry that I'm here. If anything, my career would probably be going better without him. I'm not ready to leave, and I don't know what to tell him," Ruth said. Finally saying the words out loud was a great help to her. And before Jo even answered, Ruth had worked out what to do.

"Ruth, I don't think it's so much about whether or not you're burned out from the job or if you value your career. Everyone who knows you knows how hard you work and how good you are at this job. But if Harry wasn't here, would you still want to be doing it?"

She quietly ate her salad, not replying to Jo's question. Because they both knew the answer.


	58. Chapter 58

_Late Autumn 2007_

It was still dark out, but there was a sort of quiet that comes from the early mornings of November that Harry always liked. No snow yet, but there was a bite to the air as the autumn started to give way to winter. It gave one a sense of anticipation, he thought. Like something important might be just around the corner. Perhaps it was.

Ruth woke up that morning to Harry tracing a line down her nose and mouth the way he often did. She smiled and blinked her eyes open. "I wanted to wake up before you today," she grumbled. "I was going to wake you up specially."

"Would you like me to pretend I'm asleep? I wouldn't want you to miss out on whatever you planned," he teased, his fingers still tracing lines on her face.

Ruth kissed his finger as it passed over her lips. "It's alright. But I do hope it's early enough that we can start your birthday properly."

"Oh I think we can make the time." Harry grinned. He rolled them both over so he was poised on top of Ruth. "You are all I want for my birthday anyway," he murmured as he leaned in to kiss her deeply.

She smiled and hummed happily as she took every ounce of pleasure from his kiss. It was his birthday, and she wanted to let him do anything he wanted. But because he was Harry, he would ensure that she more than enjoyed herself. He had been that way from the very first. He often told her he wanted her, and his actions proved that he did. Harry was an extremely skilled and generous lover. She assumed the former had come from practice while the latter, she hoped, was a product of his love for her. Sometimes, if she thought about it too much, Ruth felt utterly overwhelmed by the idea that Harry could love her as he did. But she knew deep in her soul that her love for him was just as wild and all-consuming. They were well-matched, in that regard. Never mind the differences in their personalities, their positions, their ages, their backgrounds. The two of them had always shared a quiet trust and openness with each other that birthed this immense love. And no matter how much it had once scared Ruth or made her nervous to feel mismatched with Harry, she knew better now. They'd been tested by the worst life could throw at them, and they had clung to each other for it. She knew now that she would never again run away from him. She would never want to. No, now she only wanted to run to him and hold onto him with everything she had.

They made love passionately that morning as the sun slowly rose in the sky, their minds and bodies waking with every glorious touch. Harry was still inside her when the alarm went off, thrusting madly to find his completion. He ignored the incessant beeping until he came, and then rolled off her to shut it off and collapse back on the bed in sated bliss.

"Rather good timing," she noted breathlessly.

Harry chuckled at that. "Best birthday morning of my life."

"I'm glad," she replied, turning to snuggle with him for a few moments before they were forced to get up and start the day. "I know it's not Paris, but at least we're together this year."

Harry held her tight and did not respond. His birthday the year before had been the promise of a weekend in Paris with her, dashed by the terrible events that took her away from him just two weeks before. He had worked on his birthday, burying himself in tasks to save the world and hopefully free up the time they needed to work on bringing her home. Obviously things had not worked out in the way they'd anticipated, but thank god it worked out in the end. She was here, in his arms, celebrating his birthday with him. She was here and she loved him and, if he was very lucky, he might never have to spend a birthday without her ever again.

Ruth was content to let him keep quiet for the time being. He was surely thinking of his last birthday just as she was. But her thoughts wandered as her hands wandered his bare, sweaty chest. "I've been thinking…"

"You usually are," he quipped.

She smiled. "Yes. I've been thinking that after you retire…"

"After _we_ retire," he corrected, interrupting her again.

"No, _you_ are retiring and I am leaving the Service to get another job. I need to find a new career because I'm not nearly old enough for retirement and I don't have a pension to start collecting," she told him. They'd had this conversation before, when Ruth had told him that leaving together would be a good idea. 'Leave while we still can' was how she'd phrased it at the time, knowing all too well that so many people they had known and loved had left their positions at Thames House in a body bag.

Harry sighed, "You know you don't have to find another job. Thanks to my vehement reluctance to be knighted, I was able to negotiate a very nice arrangement with the Home Secretary. We could both live off my pension extremely comfortably."

"Well that's sort of what I've been thinking about.

"Oh? You're going to let me have you as a kept woman?"

He was teasing her now, so she gave him a small smack on the arm for it. "No, I mean, after you retire, I thought that you might try asking me again."

Now Harry was genuinely confused. He shifted to look at her better. "Asking you what?"

A little smile played on her lips, the smile she had when she was being clever and excited about something. "Well, you asked me once in Italy and again at dinner when we came back home, and so after you retire, perhaps…third time's a charm?"

Harry understood what she was saying now. And it was quite nearly a better part of his birthday than the sex. He almost wanted to ask her then and there, but she had told him to try asking after he retired. And so he would. He had learned quite well by now that he should, in all circumstances, do as Ruth said.

After he retired, then. After Ros was securely placed as head of Section D. After Dimitri Levendis was brought in from Special Branch as a new field agent. After Towers had been told for the thousandth time that Harry would not reconsider, and Ruth would not accept the job in the Home Office. After all of that, Harry would ask Ruth again. And he was rather certain that this time, she would say yes.


	59. Chapter 59

_Winter 2007_

It had been at the Home Secretary's insistence that Harry stayed in his position until the new year. And so he had. The Grid threw a little going away party for he and Ruth on New Year's Eve. There was champagne and party hats and a banner that said, "Farewell Harry and Ruth!"

But despite the well-wishes of all their colleagues, Harry found himself a bit maudlin at the thought of actually leaving. He had lived and breathed this job for more than half his life. He'd gone from Oxford to the Army to MI-5 to MI-6 and back to Five. He had been an officer for the government for so long, he could not quite imagine what life might be like on the other side. What was he going to do? How would he fill his days, waking up at five in the morning and having nowhere to be? Malcolm at least had hobbies to occupy him. And he'd started a little private security business for himself. Harry had been certain to keep in contact with his old friend, particularly to tell him that he and Ruth would soon be civilians as well. Civilian life, what could that possibly bring him?

"You're moping."

Harry looked up to see Ruth walking into his office. She was wearing a very lovely dark blue dress that tied around her waist. She had told him that morning that she wanted to dress up a bit for their last day. Harry had worn his favorite purple tie for the occasion, matching the color of the camisole Ruth wore underneath the dress to keep it from being cut too low for public view. He smiled to see her. He always smiled to see her. "I'm not moping," he replied.

Ruth crossed the room to where he stood by the desk. It had two boxes on it of all Harry's personal items. Everything had been taken from every drawer and cabinet and shelf. The next day, it would be Ros's office. Harry would be Section Head no more.

"It's just strange to know I'm never coming back here," he told her, wrapping an arm around her waist as she stood beside him. They were facing away from the window where everyone was surely watching them and their quiet display of affection. Let them watch. It didn't matter anymore.

"I thought it would be hard to clean out my station," Ruth said, resting her head on his shoulder. "But there wasn't really much there. I've only been back eight months. Everything I had from the last few years was taken away when I was arrested."

"Yes, I'd forgotten. It wasn't anything personal, though. I made sure I took care of the things I knew you'd want."

"I know, but it would have been sort of fun to see what had been left over. I moved desks a few times when I first got here, but that station was mine for two whole years. Notes and scraps of paper and things. Memories that might have been nice to revisit."

Harry gave her hip a gentle squeeze. "We'll have our memories to share," he reminded her.

"We will," she agreed. "But you're right, it is strange to know we're not going to be here tomorrow. This was where we fell in love. We met in the briefing room and shared our first drink together there. I can't even count the number of times we cuddled on the sofa in this office to comfort each other during difficult times. And how often did one of us look up from our desk to see the other staring through the window?"

"At least once a day," he chuckled.

"Exactly. This was where it started for us, Harry, and we won't ever forget that. But we get to have a whole other life together now that we're leaving. And because we're leaving, the Grid can be our beginning but not our ending. And I think that's what matters."

Harry turned to kiss her temple. "You're exactly right, Ruth. That is what matters. And as for what comes next, we'll…we'll figure it out together."

Ruth lifted her head to smile up at him. "We will. We'll move on and figure it out." She paused and took one last look around the office. "Although, I will always regret missing out on one thing."

"Oh? What's that?" he asked.

She bit her lip and gave a rather naughty little smile. "I used to fantasize about making love to you in this office. Getting up on the desk and having you up my skirt and then shagging me up against that red wall."

Harry's jaw dropped at that. "Christ, Ruth!"

"I know, it's rather silly."

"No, not silly, just too late! If you'd told me a week ago, I could have made arrangements and made it happen. But it's our last night here and we've got to turn in our security badges when we leave!"

Ruth laughed and buried her face in his neck, hugging him close. "Oh, I love you, Harry."

He grinned and stroked her hair. "I love you, Ruth," he said softly.

Harry then lifted his arm to check his watch. Ten minutes to midnight.

"Come on," he said, "let's go up on the roof. We should be able to have a nice view of the fireworks from up there. I want to ring in the new year, just the two of us. Go get your coat."

It had not snowed since Boxing Day, so the air was cold but not too bad. There was no wind to speak of up on the roof, which Harry and Ruth knew from experience was quite rare. The sky was clear and full of stars.

"I used to come up here when you were gone. Felt like before, when you'd meet me up here and we'd talk," Harry told her as they looked out over the city lights of London.

"This was where you first asked me out. Thermobaric bombs and white burgundy," she recalled.

He nodded. "Quite the species," he added quietly.

Ruth wrapped her arm around his. They were both wearing their gloves and scarves and coats but it was still nice to snuggle up a bit.

Before either of them could say anything else, great booms sounded through the city as the sky filled with fireworks. Big Ben chimed just a moment later, twelve loud bells.

"Happy New Year," Ruth murmured, turning to kiss him.

Harry pressed his lips to hers and smiled. "Happy New Year."

And it would be a brand new year for them. No more death and destruction and terror dogging their steps. No more chaos and panic. No more worry over whether they'd survive the day.

They continued to watch the fireworks in silence, leaning against the railing on the roof of Thames House for the very last time. When the sparkling lights had faded and left only smoke wafting through the starlit sky, they stood up straight to turn away from the wall.

"Ruth?"

She turned to Harry to see him standing looking somewhat nervous, suddenly. Nervous like he'd looked when he had asked her to dinner that time. "Yes?"

He glanced down at the ground and back up at her. "I'd, rm, I'd kneel down, only you're always telling me to be careful of my knee."

Ruth gasped in realization. "Oh so now you're going to listen to me?" she quipped with a little nervous chuckle.

But he smiled. "Actually, I'd like to be able to listen to you for the rest of my life." Harry reached out and took her hands in his. "I love you. I actually feel like I tell you I love you so often that it loses meaning."

She shook her head vigorously. "It doesn't," she assured him.

He chuckled. "Good. That's good. Ruth Evershed, you are the love of my life, and I am asking if you'll marry me, and I hope that I can call you my wife till the day I die."

Ruth opened her mouth to say something, but a sob came out instead. Tears fell down her cheeks.

"Oh no, did I muck it up again? Oh Ruth, I'm so sorry, I thought…"

She shook her head at him again and let go of his hands, only to throw her arms around his neck. "No, Harry, it's perfect. It's absolutely perfect. This was exactly right, you did it perfectly. Of course I'll marry you," she cried.

Harry was not quite sure how to interpret the wild display of emotion, but she had said she would marry him, so surely that was a good sign. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight till she got ahold of herself. They took a half step apart so he could reach into his pocket for a handkerchief to dry her tears. Her breathing was still a bit hitched, but she was recovering well. "Alright?" he asked softly.

Ruth nodded. "Yes, sorry, I think it was all a bit much. Saying goodbye to everyone and packing up our things and the New Year's fireworks and the proposal. But I was right, third time's a charm, Harry."

He gave her a soft kiss. "You're usually right about these things, Ruth. Most things, actually."

She smiled brightly at him now. "I'm sure I'm right to say that I am going to be very happy as your wife with you as my husband."

"I will do everything in my power to make sure of it," he promised. "Oh, and I got you a ring. I meant to get it out, but then you were crying and…"

"You got me a ring?"

"Yes, of course I did. I bought it sometime ago, I'm surprised you didn't find it somewhere," he laughed.

Ruth took her glove off her left hand as Harry reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve a tiny black velvet box. He opened it and showed her the exquisite platinum ring of three pear-shaped sapphires each surrounded by diamonds. "Oh, Harry!" She had practically squealed in delight, which he took as a very good sign indeed. He removed the ring from the box and placed it on her ring finger of her left hand and kissed it gently.

"Is that alright? Do you like it?"

"I love it." Ruth grabbed his face in her hands, one gloved and one not, and kissed him hard. Their kiss was soon broken as they were both smiling too much to continue.

Harry pulled away and held her hand, leading her back to the door. "Come on, darling, let's announce the news to everyone on the Grid and grab those last boxes and go home, alright?"

Ruth nodded in agreement. "Yours or mine tonight?"

"Yours, I think. We should probably tell the cats we're getting married. And assuming they approve of our union, we can then start making plans for the wedding and where we'll live and everything else," he said happily.

"I think both Fidget and Mopsy will give us their blessing," Ruth laughed.

Back on the Grid, everyone had another round of champagne to toast Sir Harry and the future Lady Pearce. Jo was obsessed with the ring. Zaf hugged Harry in congratulations. Tariq was grinning like mad. Dimitri was filling any half-empty glass with more champagne. Even Ros was smiling.

The absent friends were conspicuous to both Harry and Ruth. Adam and Fiona would have been enormously pleased. Danny would have asked them why it took so long. Colin would have started trying to ask if he could DJ the wedding. Connie would have given a wry smile and told Harry that she would not be his best man but appreciated the offer anyway.

But that was the past, in an old life. And their marriage would be the future, in another life.


	60. Chapter 60

"Ruth, why did you cry when I proposed? I've never asked. You're not usually a weepy sort of person."

She laughed at Harry's silly question. "You took me by surprise, and as I told you at the time, it was a very emotional day."

"It shouldn't have been a surprise, though. You were the one who told me I should ask you after we left the Service," he pointed out.

"Well I didn't expect you to propose before we'd even left the building. I sort of thought you'd take me to dinner about a week later or something," she replied.

Harry shrugged but he had a little glint in his eye. "Well, I think my way was better, don't you think?"

"Yes, Harry, I do. It was absolutely perfect."

He smiled and turned his attention back to Penny. "And so that's all, I think. I retired, we left Five, and we lived happily ever after."

Penny's eyes went very big as she realized that the story was over. Her bottom lip trembled for a fraction of a second before she shrieked, "Daddy, no!"

Harry knew better than to reward her tantrums by laughing, but it was extremely cute to see her get all flustered like that. He resisted the impulse. "Hush now, Penny, you wanted the story of our old life, and that was the end of our old life. Our new life came after that, when we got married and moved to this house and so on," he told her.

Ruth, to this point, had stayed quiet and let Harry handle things, but she interjected, "Happily ever after is usually where the story ends, little love."

But Penny would have none of that. "But the story can't be over! I wasn't even in it yet!"

This time, Harry did laugh. Oh that little girl would be the death of him. "You don't need to hear all of that, Penny, you were there for it."

"But Daddy, I want to hear you tell it!" she whined.

Ruth joined in, holding their little girl in her arms. "Yes, come on, Harry. It's such a nice story, our happily ever after. I want to hear you tell it."

He sighed, knowing it was pointless to try and resist the urging of both his girls. "Alright, I'll keep going," he conceded.


	61. Chapter 61

_Winter 2008_

The first morning of their new life, Harry was determined that they should stay in bed as long as possible. He made sure the alarm was turned off and they would have no interruptions as they slept in. He was still awake with the sun, unfortunately, but he lazed about, watching Ruth sleep, thinking beautiful and happy thoughts. Quite a change from the life he was used to before. When Ruth did wake up, she indulged him in sleepy smiles and languid kisses. She tried to get up, but he wouldn't let her.

"Harry, I need a pee, and then I'll get right back in bed," she laughed, struggling against his tight embrace.

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

It was only then that he loosened his arms around her. He knew he'd need to get up for the same purpose sometime soon, but he was alright for a little while. He watched Ruth sit up and stretch before padding over to the loo. The sleep shirt she wore barely covered her knickers, and he smiled to watch her bare legs walk around his bedroom. Their bedroom. Well, that was a conversation that needed to be had.

Ruth returned a minute later and playfully jumped onto the bed, landing halfway on top of Harry. He got the wind knocked out of him with that. "Oh sorry!" she apologized, trying to get off of him.

He laughed wheezily and rolled them over so she was pinned beneath him. "I'll get you for that."

"You've already got me, love," she replied with a smile. Ruth wiggled her left hand at him, the sapphire engagement ring glinting in the morning light. "You've got me forever and ever."

Harry quite thought his heart might burst right out of his chest at that. She was going to marry him. They were going to live the rest of their lives together in wedded bliss. And this was just the beginning.

He made love to her, then. It was slow and reverent and passionate, and by the time they were done, they both dozed off, naked and sated. Nature called for Harry after that, forcing him out of bed at last. His stomach rumbled as well. Time for breakfast. Well, nearly lunchtime now.

Ruth made some toast and bacon for them, since Harry didn't have much else in the kitchen. They'd have the time to do proper shopping and cooking now. Another benefit to retirement. As they ate, they made a plan for the day. Long walk in the park to enjoy the new year, followed by a celebratory dinner out at a very posh restaurant. They'd then head home to Ruth's so they could check on the cats and spend a few days there.

It was still strange for Harry to go on a walk without Scarlett on the lead. He said as much to Ruth.

"I know, for me too," she agreed. "I miss her. She was always the sweetest thing."

"She was a good girl. Loyal and loving and well-trained. And she adored you," he recalled with a sad smile.

Ruth nuzzled his arm as they walked along the tree-lined paths to the partially frozen pond in the park. "I'm trying to remember the first time I met her. Was it when I stayed over during all that nonsense with Gary Hicks?"

"I think so. You stayed over before when I got shot, but she was being looked after by the neighbor then, since I was in hospital at the time." Harry chuckled at the memory.

"What's funny about that?"

"Oh I was just remembering how you got me that note. I was exhausted from work and pain and the painkillers when you told me you told a nurse that you were my mistress and pregnant with our lovechild. I nearly keeled over on the spot."

"What for?!"

"Because for one horrifying moment, I thought you were telling the truth and I'd somehow forgotten getting to make love to you."

Ruth smacked his chest playfully for that. "Oh you did not!"

"I did! I don't think I'd realized my feelings for you at that point, but I certainly recognized that I found you extremely attractive and I would have wanted to remember getting to have you in my bed."

She smiled. "Well, now you get to have me in your bed every night. Except the nights that I get to have you in my bed."

"About that, Ruth…" he began, changing the subject to one that needed to be discussed.

"Yes?"

"Now that we're getting married, we're going to have to do something about our living situation. We don't need two houses," he pointed out.

She hummed in agreement. "I know, you're right. I actually have been giving it some thought."

"I expect nothing less," he teased.

"What would you say to moving out of London?" Ruth suggested.

"I wouldn't be opposed to it," Harry replied delicately.

"Do you have any part of the country you're particularly interested in exploring? Or any part we should avoid?"

"Nothing in Yorkshire. I spent enough time there for a lifetime," he said darkly. His childhood in Bradford had been relatively pleasant, but there were ghosts for him there that he had no intention of meeting ever again.

"And I have no interest in returning to Cheltenham or Exeter. How about somewhere by the sea? Suffolk, maybe? We can find a little house somewhere with a garden. I've never really had a garden before," she thought aloud.

Harry nodded. "Might be nice to be somewhere with the smell of the sea. You liked that about your place in Italy, didn't you?"

She gave a soft smile, recalling the pleasant parts of living in Vernazza. "That part I did love, yes. I loved looking out my window and seeing the ocean past the roofline of the church."

"Well that settles it. We'll start looking for a house in Suffolk with a garden by the sea," he decided.

Ruth grinned excitedly. "I can't wait. We'll have a place that's not mine and not yours, but _ours_. And maybe we can get a puppy to keep the cats company. Fidget is really getting on. I had him when I was at GCHQ."

"We can have a whole zoo in our house if you want," Harry laughed.

"One thing at a time, though, I think. We'll have to figure out the timing for everything. Do you want to try to move before we get married? Or stay here till we do that and then move on from there?"

Harry had to give that a bit of consideration. "Well, weddings take time to plan. And moving while putting all the wedding details together might be difficult. But maybe we should hire a wedding planner to just take care of everything."

"Why do we need a wedding planner?"

"There's a lot of things to keep track of," he pointed out. "Flowers and music and food and drink and decorations."

Ruth narrowed her eyes at him. "You want a big, lavish wedding, don't you?"

"Don't you?"

She sighed in slight exasperation. "I just want to marry you, Harry, I don't want some sodding circus to worry about!"

"So just the registry office and a luncheon?"

"If you don't mind, yes. We can have a reception party, but we don't need to rent a hall or anything. And it's too cold to do it outside."

"Well we aren't getting married next week, Ruth, it'll warm up by spring or summer if we do want to do things outdoors."

Ruth chewed on her lip as she thought about it. "I don't expect us to get married next week, no, but I don't really want to wait till spring or summer, do you?"

"I suppose not. I would like to marry you as soon as possible."

A smile spread on her lovely lips as she came up with her idea for a plan. "How about next month, then? I'm sure we can cobble together something nice by then."

"You want our wedding to be 'cobbled together?'" he asked incredulously.

"To be completely honest, Harry, I don't really care. I just want to marry you."

He grinned at that. And he felt much the same way. "Alright, how about this: you start doing some research about property in Suffolk and I'll take care of the wedding arrangements. We've both got quite a lot of time on our hands now, so I think we can handle everything ourselves. What do you think?"

"I think that sounds wonderful, Harry."

They continued their walk around the pond, arm in arms, speaking softly and happily about their plans for their future.


	62. Chapter 62

_Winter 2008_

Ruth was sitting on the sofa in her house with cats winding around her ankles and a cold cup of tea in front of her and bridal magazines spread out in every direction. Harry came home from his morning walk to the market to find her with a furrowed look of concentration he knew very well from the days when he'd watch her work out complex translations at her desk.

"Alright?" he asked tentatively. She hadn't even acknowledged that he'd come home, a sure sign that she was deeply focused on what she was doing.

"I'm a horrible bride," she told him, not bothering to look up.

"I tend to disagree, but why don't you tell me your thinking on that one," he said delicately. Harry took a seat in his old reliable armchair that now sat beside the sofa. They'd taken about two weeks to move the things he wanted to keep into Ruth's place and put the rest into storage so they could sell his house. Soon, they'd be moving to a town in Suffolk in a house all their own, but they were living together at Ruth's in the meantime. After all, they didn't want to have to move the cats more than once.

Ruth sat up and stretched before flopping back on the sofa. "I don't know what I was thinking, us getting married in three weeks. It's absolutely no time at all! And I know I said I didn't want a big fuss for our wedding, and I don't, but I didn't realize that my idea of 'no big fuss' is actually quite a lot of effort! How am I supposed to know what sort of dress I want? How do we choose a cake? What sort of flowers should I have in my bouquet? I mean that's really the only things I have to plan for. We've already made the appointment with the registrar. We have the pub booked for the reception dinner, and they're providing the food and drinks and music. But I have three weeks for those three stupid things, and it's still somehow too much to accomplish!"

Harry took each of her points in turn, distilling the volume of information she gave him down to it salient themes. "The cake we can choose together. There's that bakery down by the river where we used to get croissants for breakfast sometimes and I think it might be nice to use them for our wedding cake. They've got professionals who can help guide our decisions. As for the bouquet, I think you should pick colors and scents you like and find flowers that match. If my opinion on the issue helps, I don't think tropical flowers would be appropriate for a February wedding in London, but I won't stop you if you decide you want to have a bouquet of birds of paradise and hibiscus. Your engagement ring is sapphires and diamonds, so bluebells might be pretty. I don't know, it's just an idea. And as for your dress, you're going to try things on today and even if you don't find the perfect dress today, you'll have a better idea of what sort of styles and things you like. There, does that about cover it?"

She stared at him in slight awe. She sighed, running her hands through her hair. "How do you do that? How do you boss me into your way of thinking by being completely rational and logical and making sense of all my blathering?"

He smiled. "I have five years of experience in making sense of your blathering, darling. And it's my job to take information and make a rational and logical course of action from it."

"It was your job," she corrected.

"Yes, it was my job. But now the only job I have is the best one of all, and it's being your husband. Or in three weeks it'll be my job. At the moment, I'm still in training," he said with a smirk.

Ruth just grinned. "You're already wonderful in your new position," she praised. "But for now, I think I've got to clean all this mess up and then go take a shower and change before I'm whisked off to that flashy bridal shop." She stood up and started gathering all her magazines. "Oh there is one other thing we have to plan, and we should probably make decisions rather quickly before it's too late. The honeymoon."

"Paris," he answered without any thought at all.

She looked up at him curiously. "Honeymoon in Paris?"

"Of course. Paris is a place for lovers. Perfect place for a honeymoon. And we never did get around to going," he replied.

But Ruth frowned. "I thought we'd already discussed that I'd prefer New York."

He sighed in slight frustration. "Not for a honeymoon, Ruth!"

"So we'll just do it your way, is that it?"

Harry did not like that hard edge to her voice. But no use upsetting her just for his fun. "Alright, how about we go to Paris for our honeymoon because I've already booked a penthouse suite which was supposed to be a surprise, and then I'll take you to New York for our first anniversary?"

"Oh alright, I suppose Paris is better for a honeymoon," she conceded.

"Thank you," he replied with a satisfied smile.

Ruth paused, eyeing him closely. "You already booked the room?"

"I made the arrangements the same day we booked the date with the registrar. And it's not just a room, it's a suite. With enough space for me to make love to you on a different surface every night for a week."

She blushed at that and quipped, "You know, I think we'll do rather well with marriage if that's how you plan on starting out." And with that, Ruth flitted up the stairs to take her shower, leaving him to chuckle merrily downstairs.

He stayed where he was for a while, as Mopsy had hopped up on his lap and demanded a scratch behind the ears. And as much as he wanted to go tease Ruth in the shower, she was running late already and it wouldn't do to distract her.

It was a good thing he'd left his fiancée be, because her escort to the bridal shop arrived early, just about the time during which Harry would have probably found his fingers inside Ruth, if he'd had his way.

The doorbell rang, causing the cats to dive under the sofa. Harry smiled at their antics as he went to answer it.

"So did you really retire or is that another lie you've told to keep your cover on some operation?"

A waif of a woman with bright blonde hair and a pretty face bearing a hard expression did not even say hello before asking her accusatory question. Harry could not have really expected anything else. "No, I really am retired. Ruth's upstairs getting ready. Why don't you come in for now?" he answered, holding the door open.

Catherine Townsend walked past her father and into a strange house. It was nothing like any setting she was used to seeing her father in. She also was very unused to seeing him without a suit and tie. This causal polo shirt and khakis combination was a bit unnerving. Nevertheless, she waited till he closed the door behind her and took her coat and scarf, and she turned to give him a quick embrace and a swift kiss on the cheek. "Hi, Dad," she finally greeted.

Harry felt himself turn bright red. He rarely received any sort of affection from his children, but he reveled in those small opportunities. "Hello, Catherine."

The two of them made their way into the living room and sat together on the sofa, once Catherine had politely declined the offer of tea. "So you finally made it out, did you?"

He nodded. "I did. Nearly didn't actually. I was arrested and tortured a few months back. And Ruth barely escaped a bomb exploding in the Underground. We barely made it out alive."

"That sounds about right, I suppose," she grumbled. Catherine never had appreciated his work. Not that he could blame her in the least.

An awkward silence fell between them. Harry eventually broke it to say, "Thank you for offering to take Ruth to see your designer friend. She's been a bit stressed about the dress, and lord knows I'm absolutely no help there."

Catherine shrugged. "It's a girl thing, I guess. I think Madeleine's designs are incredible. I don't even blame her for dropping out of costume design to do wedding gowns. I'm sure she'll have something that will be perfect for Ruth."

"And you know that Ruth's friend, Jo, is going to be meeting you there? I don't know if there's a reservation involved or anything."

"No, it's fine. But am I correct in assuming this Jo is one of your lot and I'm not allowed to ask her any questions?"

"Yes, she's one of our lot. And she's not retired like Ruth and I are, so she'll be meeting you there, since we've got no idea what else she's doing with her day."

Catherine grumbled at that.

"She's a very sweet girl," Harry said, hoping something would help ease the bitterness his daughter possessed against anyone who had anything to do with MI-5.

"I'll find out soon enough, I guess. But then again, your lot are good at pretending to be sweet and lovely," Catherine snapped.

Harry knew exactly what his daughter was referring to and he hoped he wouldn't have to address it. "There will be a lot of them at the wedding, so please be polite."

"Will anyone I know be there?"

"Malcolm is coming. He's my best man. But otherwise, no, I don't think you know anyone. Everyone from the old days is dead except me and Malcolm."

Catherine frowned at that extremely causal reference to the risk that job possessed. She quickly moved passed it. "What about that one I met? I'm sure he didn't tell me his real name."

This was exactly what Harry had hoped to avoid. His heart constricted in his chest at the memory. "Danny Hunter was his name. And he died about two months after you met him."

Her eyes went very wide at that, instantly telling Harry that he'd said too much. His daughter, his kindhearted little girl, had always been too emotionally involved in everyone and everything she did. From birds with broken wings to orphans in warzones, she had grown up and found more causes to devote herself to, and though she had always found tragedy and destruction in her work, she had not become so desensitized to it as Harry had.

Ruth took that exact moment to come down the stairs. "Hi, sorry I'm late!" she called, rushing in to greet their guest. "Catherine, it's so nice to meet you. I'm Ruth." Ruth had a bright smile and an outstretched hand to offer to Harry's daughter.

Catherine looked slightly taken aback. Harry had not given much description of Ruth when he'd spoken to Catherine about her. He'd kept it very vague, just saying that they were getting married on the twenty-third of February, he and Ruth had worked together but now left the Service together, and if Catherine was in the country, would she like to come to the wedding? Ruth had then corresponded over email with her when Catherine graciously offered to take Ruth to see her designer friend.

The two women exchanged pleasantries and left Harry at home. Ruth drove the Range Rover, since Catherine did not have a car in town. They did not warm to each other immediately and the drive through London was a bit awkward.

"I assume Harry didn't tell you much about me. You looked a bit surprised there," Ruth said, attempting to break the ice.

"You're not what I expected, I guess. I mean, Dad getting married says a lot, but you aren't really like any of his other women. And you're certainly not like my mother."

Ruth nodded. "I struggled with that early on. For a long time, actually. The idea that he was only interested in me because I was young and an easy target. He is much older than me and he was my boss. That definitely raised a lot of flags for me. But I promise you, Catherine, we don't take the lightly. I made him work very hard to win me over and convince me that he was serious and we could make a real go of it. But I'd do anything for that man, and I want to be with him for the rest of my life." Immediately, Ruth cursed her wagging tongue. She was so used to being tight-lipped and secretive about everything in her life from anyone outside the Grid and being extremely careful about what she revealed on the Grid. Now that she'd left that life, she had not yet found the right balance of her talkativeness. She certainly had lost the bubbly nervousness she'd had back at GCHQ; that naïve and earnest girl had been robbed of most of her shiny ideals thanks to the shadows she'd inhabited for five years.

Catherine considered Ruth's words for a moment before responding. "Dad said you almost died in an explosion."

"Yes, that's correct." No chance of saying too much about that. Ruth had absolutely no intention of going into any detail about the horrific incident that had incited Harry and herself to finally leave.

"And my dad's done dangerous stuff like that, hasn't he? I mean not for a while because he's the boss, right?"

The concern Catherine showed for her father warmed Ruth's heart. She knew how Harry had been trying over the last few years to mend his relationship with her. It was difficult, not being able to really talk to her, thanks to the nature of their work, but he was trying. And Catherine did care about him. Hopefully they'd be able to make a better go of it now that the barriers between them were falling away. Ruth told her, "Harry's survived much more than any person really should. He was shot in the shoulder just a few years ago, not long after that November Committee incident. And he's been captured and imprisoned a few times since then."

Catherine just grumbled, "Too clever to be caught for long. Too good to stay down. Too stubborn to ever die."

Ruth laughed, "That's a very succinct way to put it. Certainly Harry to a T."

They pulled up to the bridal shop a moment later and found Jo waiting for them inside with champagne already poured. "The bride must be at least three glasses in before we're finished here," she said with mock seriousness, handing Ruth a champagne flute. "I'm so excited to find you the most perfect dress, Ruth. Did you know this designer did the gown for Lady Davina Windsor? I looked her up. She's made wedding dresses for royals!"

Catherine brightened considerably at that. "Madeleine is wonderful, and I know we'll find something perfect for Ruth. But we have to get started somewhere, so cheers!"

The three women clinked their glasses and took a sip. The shop assistant then sent Ruth to wander the racks to figure out what sort of things to try on. Catherine and Jo were chatting up a storm, obviously becoming fast friends. Ruth watched them from the corner of her eye and smiled, knowing that Catherine probably had not wanted to spend much time with a spook. But she was in many ways a very unexpected young woman. It had only been an hour since they'd met and already Ruth could see a lot of Harry in her, both in their likeness and in the effects his absent fathering had on her.

"I can take it from here, Gabby." A very tall, elegant woman with dark hair and dark eyes tapped the shop assistant and sent her away, coming to stand before Ruth. "You must be the bride. I'm Madeleine Marks, Catherine's friend."

"Ruth Evershed. Thank you so much, Ms. Marks. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this. I haven't a clue what I'm doing, and I'm getting married in three weeks!"

The designer smiled. "Call me Madeleine, please. And I am always happy to help any friend of Catherine's. Why don't you tell me what sort of style catches your eye and I can pull some samples for you to try?"

Ruth saw no point in volunteering the fact that she wasn't exactly Catherine's friend but rather her future step-mother—now there was a rather frightening thought—but she did her best to try to describe what sort of dress she thought she might like. "Something simple, I think? Traditional, I suppose. My fiancé wants to do the full morning coat and top hat for the wedding, even if it is just at the registry office. I don't think I should wear anything too tight or too revealing. But beyond that…I honestly have no idea."

Upon overhearing that, Jo hurried over and explained, "She's marrying a knight of the realm, so she's going to be getting a title. She should wear something beautiful, like a princess."

Catherine, knowing more about the terminology in this arena than the other two women, translated to Madeleine. "Let's start with some ballgown silhouettes. Maybe a sweetheart neckline?"

"I have a few like that. Let me grab them," Madeline said with a nod and a smile.

Ruth spent hours being plied with champagne as the shop assistant, Gabby, helped her in and out of wedding dresses. The strapless ones made her far too self-conscious. Besides, the wedding was in February and she didn't want to get cold. The poofy skirts were very princess-like but Ruth felt rather foolish in them. They also tried some with trains—which Ruth knew for a fact would make her trip—and some with a mermaid silhouette—which Ruth was horrified to see since they made her hips and thighs look enormously out of proportion to the rest of her body.

Jo was getting a little tipsy, as a spook tended to do after a stressful operation and given leave for a day, and gave more and more suggestions for beautiful gowns that Ruth should try. "Have we tried the one with the layered tulle? How about the lace overlay?"

The more champagne Ruth drank, the quieter she became. None of these dresses felt right in the least, but she did not trust herself to say anything. She would put on what Madeleine gave her and maybe eventually Jo would fall in love with something and insist that Ruth should buy it.

Throughout the process, Catherine was relatively quiet. She sat on the sofa with Jo and drank champagne and talked with Madeleine sometimes. Mostly, she just watched Ruth in each dress she tried. Eventually, she pulled Madeleine off to the side and spoke quietly to her. Madeleine nodded and went to the back of the store one more.

Ruth was about to try on a silk sheath gown that she already hated on the hanger when Madeleine came into the fitting room with one more gown. "Try this on instead. Catherine thought we should try something a little different."

And it was very different. It was simpler in design than a lot of the others, but the intricate beading made it very interesting. With Gabby's assistance, Ruth tried it on. And she immediately smiled.

She walked out to the mirrors where Jo and Catherine were stationed. Jo actually gasped. Catherine was beaming.

"I think that's the one," Catherine said after they all quietly stared at Ruth in gown.

Jo agreed, "Yes, Ruth, that's absolutely perfect! Do you love it?"

"Yes, I do," she said, absolutely shocked that it was indeed the case that she had found a dress she loved.

Staring at herself in the mirror with her friend and Harry's daughter smiling beside her, Ruth could finally see it all come together. Harry in his formal suit. She in that dress. She would have no veil, she decided, and she would curl her hair. The bouquet would be white roses and bluebells. She could see it all clear as day. It all finally felt very real and beautiful, and suddenly the three weeks till the wedding that had been filling her with dread were now outstretched far too long before her. She was going to marry Harry Pearce in this dress and they were going to finally have their happily ever after.


	63. Chapter 63

"I didn't know Catherine picked your dress for you," Harry said softly after Ruth told them about her nightmarish day trying to find the right one.

Ruth nodded. "She's very observant, as you know. Comes from being a documentarian, I think. She watches and she notices things. Makes connections."

"Not unlike you," Harry interjected.

"Well, perhaps that's why we get on so well."

"Is a wedding fun?" Penny asked her parents, interrupting.

Harry grinned. "I thought it was fun. We had the simple ceremony at the registry office and then to the pub for dancing and cake and drinking. There were only about a dozen of us, but we made it quite a party." He thought back fondly to the day, holding his wife in his arms and marveling at the fact that they'd finally made it. Catherine was there and she even danced with her father. Though she did spend most of her time laughing and flirting with Zaf. Jo had dragged Ros onto the dancefloor, and the two blondes absolutely terrified Malcolm when they sandwiched him between them. Christ, they'd all been so unbelievably drunk. But happy. Drunk and oh so very happy.

"And you remember me showing you our wedding pictures, right?" Ruth said to Penny, pointing to the framed photograph that sat on the fireplace mantle.

Penny grinned and hopped up from the sofa to reach up on her tiptoes for the frame. She couldn't reach, so Ruth got up to get it for her. "You looked so pretty, Mummy!"

Ruth smiled, looking at the photo of Harry and herself on their wedding day. She saw it every day now and did not often think of it. But she really did look beautiful. That dress was the most perfect thing. Long sleeves and scoop neckline of sheer fabric with delicate beaded flowers. Fitted bodice and chiffon skirt. It moved like water when she walked. She had never felt more beautiful in all her life. And when Harry had undone all the buttons down the back with trembling hands in the honeymoon suite of their hotel on their wedding night, she had felt even more beautiful. Her husband made love to her with a reverence that nearly moved her to tears. He had even stopped moving inside her after she came to take her face in his hands and kiss her and say, "I have waited my whole life to love and be loved by you. And I will love you till the day I die. I don't deserve to be this happy."

"Yes, you do, Harry. You deserve it because I do love you and you do love me, and we earned this." After that she'd rolled him over and perched atop his hips, riding him hard till they both passed out.

"Mummy, did you go to Paris?"

Penny's question jolted Ruth out of her memories. "Yes, we did. We had a beautiful honeymoon. But we don't need to talk about that. You've been to Paris, do you remember?"

She nodded. Harry and Ruth had taken their little girl to a few cities in France during the summer holiday just two years before. "Did you and Mummy go to the Eiffel Tower?" she asked Harry.

Harry felt himself blush slightly. In actuality, he and Ruth did very little sightseeing. They visited one museum each day. Otherwise, he made good on his promise to make love to her on every surface of their penthouse suite. There were quite a few tables and sofas and chairs to utilize. Not to mention the enormous jacuzzi tub and rainfall shower. That honeymoon had been the most erotic week of his whole life. How they hadn't run out of ideas was beyond him. It must have had something to do with the three different sets of risqué lingerie that Ruth had brought with them. She'd been practically numb with embarrassment when she first showed him. But seeing his wife clad in turquoise lace for the first time had nearly given him a heart attack. It probably wasn't healthy for a man in his fifties to have the blood rush to his cock so quickly. Then the next night when she'd put on the black silk and given him a blowjob in the shower. And the last night of their honeymoon with the emerald green sheer teddy that allowed him to suck on her breasts through the fabric.

"Yes, we saw the Eiffel Tower," Ruth answered, seeing Harry's eyes glaze over and ignore their daughter's question. But her tone was one that Penny knew very well, and she did not ask any more questions about Paris.


	64. Chapter 64

_Summer 2008_

Ruth stood in the driveway, staring up at the red masonry edifice and felt a lump in her throat. This, more than anything they'd done in the last six months, felt like a truly new beginning.

"Everything alright, darling?"

She turned to see Harry carrying the first of many boxes, already huffing and puffing a bit. Ruth had to laugh slightly. She did love this husband of hers, but hopefully retirement would give him the time to get into a bit better shape. "Everything is absolutely perfect, love. Just taking a minute to appreciate it all."

Harry smiled at her. "We can take our time once we get inside. You've got the keys, so open the door so I'm not stranded carrying this bloody thing."

Ruth hurried to the front door and opened it for him. A shiver ran through her at that. It was the first time she'd unlocked the door to their new house.

Since the first day they had left the Service, Ruth had been searching online for property listings in Suffolk. For a coastal region, there wasn't much actually within view of the coast itself. And most things that were right on the water were, for some hideous reason, crumbling modular homes that had about the same square footage as a bad flat in Camden. But at last, she'd found a two-bedroom detached house in Dunwich—a tiny town she'd never heard of before which boasted open lands and one very highly rated restaurant—for a reasonable price. It wasn't as close to the water as she had hoped, but it had a sweet little garden and the pictures looked rather nice.

Harry had been quite enthusiastic about the prospect of moving into a new house of their own. He'd been in a very good mood about everything, it seemed, ever since their honeymoon. And Ruth couldn't blame him. It was the absolute best week of her life, getting to spend day and night wrapped up in her new husband and catching some history and culture on the side with some incredible food and wine. A dream come true. And now the dream could continue in their new place.

But the house Ruth had showed Harry when she finally picked one she really liked had underwhelmed him. It was perfectly lovely, but it was no good for the perfect life he had envisioned for their future. Harry looked at the computer screen over her shoulder and frowned. Ruth huffed in slight annoyance as he leaned across her for the mouse and scrolled down the page of listings. "How about this one instead?" he asked, clicking on a manor house on offer in Dunwich a few miles down the road from Ruth's choice.

Ruth elbowed him away. "Harry, that is twice the price of the one I found. Be serious."

"I am serious, Ruth. The one you found wasn't very expensive."

"Yes, but the one you found is very expensive," she reasoned.

"Do you like it?" he asked, ignoring the issue of price.

She rolled her eyes. "Well obviously it's beautiful, all that masonry and the garden and the woods on the grounds and the beach on the other edge, but it's a manor house!"

"Yes, but do you like it?" he pressed.

"Yes, I like it," she sighed in resignation, hoping that just placating him would cause him to drop the subject. She wanted to show him her choice so that they could call the listing agent together. Harry was just wasting time with this.

He leaned his head down and kissed her cheek. "Then we should get this one."

"What?!"

"We're married now, Ruth, and what's mine is yours. I'm going to be adding your name to all my bank accounts, and you'll see that we have no problem buying this house. We'll get a small mortgage just so we aren't going too far too fast with my savings, but we are going to go to Suffolk and look at this house, and if it's as wonderful as the pictures make it look, we are going to buy it."

And that was all it took. Ruth took her analyst's eye to the property and to Harry's bank statements, and when it all passed her rigorous inspection, she agreed. They closed on the property as soon as they could get the bank to agree, and they had begun moving before Ruth's London house had even sold.

Ruth ended up quite glad that Harry had bullied her into this choice. It was the grandest house she'd ever seen. The ground floor had the kitchen, dining room, sitting room, and laundry room. And upstairs were two bedrooms with a bathroom between them and a huge master suite with an ensuite. The former owners had modernized the kitchen and bathrooms before listing the property, and Ruth instantly knew they were incredibly lucky for it.

Their furniture had been delivered the day before, mostly new things that they'd bought together and supplemented with the things they knew they wanted to keep from their London lives—Harry's armchair, Ruth's antique bookcases, the dining table that had once belonged to Harry's parents. And now, they had all summer to haul their boxes from London to Dunwich and to unpack and sort through all their worldly possessions in their new home.

"Want to go get the cats before they do anything too vindictive?" Harry suggested.

He made a good point. Ruth hadn't wanted to let them loose in a new house while they were carrying boxes, in case Fidget or Mopsy escaped through the open door, but it would be as bad of an idea to keep them in the car too long where they could scratch and urinate out of annoyance.

Ruth got the two cat carriers from the back of the Range Rover and gently carried them up the long drive and into the house. She made sure the front door was closed and then released the animals. Fidget immediately hurled himself under the sofa. Mopsy just began running like a maniac and meowing extremely loudly.

"I think they'll adjust," Ruth hoped aloud.

"It'll be fine. I'll set up the litterbox in the mudroom off the laundry room, shall I?" Harry asked.

"Yes, that would be best, I think. I'm going to take some of these boxes upstairs. For now, we can put things in the room where they belong, and if we're not sure, put them up in the bedroom closest to the stairs?"

Harry nodded. "That's a good idea. It'll be more annoying to decide later to take them upstairs versus down."

"My thoughts exactly. I'll get started."

"I'm going to stick to the downstairs for now."

"That's fine. But…before we get too busy…"

"Yes?"

Ruth came and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him lovingly. "Welcome home, Sir Harry."

He beamed and kissed her again. "Welcome home, Lady Pearce."


	65. Chapter 65

_Autumn 2008_

Harry sat on the sofa with Mopsy on his lap while reading a book. It was the fourth in a series that had been very popular a number of years before when Harry had no time to read for fun. Now, with the weather getting worse, he found himself spending a lot of time indoors just cleaning and reading. He'd been retired for nine months and after the wedding and honeymoon and all the unpacking in the new house, he didn't really have much to occupy him. He'd find something, he was sure. But for now, he was going to just enjoy reading.

Only he wasn't enjoying his reading at that precise moment. His eyes did not read the page but rather glazed over moving across the same line over and over as he glanced continually up at the clock. It was nearly four. It was nearly time.

At last, the sound of a car engine got closer and closer. Mopsy scurried up the stairs and Harry got up from the sofa. There was no use pretending he wasn't waiting. He had no act to keep up here.

The front door opened and Ruth burst inside with her purse and a huge tote bag and her scarf lopsided around her neck and her coat halfway off her shoulders. Her hair was mussed and she had a wild look in her eyes.

"Jesus, Ruth, are you alright?" Harry asked, hurrying through the entryway to help her with her things.

"Grade Nine. Why did I think I could teach Grade Nine?"

There was a distant tone to her voice that did not sit well with him. "How did it go?"

Ruth kicked off her shoes and dropped all her things to the floor and shuffled through the house to flop down on the sofa. Harry hesitated for a moment, wanting to follow her immediately, but he stayed behind to hang up her coat and scarf and put her shoes off to the side. Something told him that he'd be spending the rest of his life picking up after his cluttered, haphazard wife.

When he did finally join her in the sitting room, she had her hands over her face and gave a muffled screech of frustration. "So not well?" he asked.

She turned to look at him with fire in her eyes. "Those children are monsters. I don't know how they've gotten this far in life, honestly. The utter rudeness and disrespect! I tried all day to get my classes to quiet down and listen to me. Even when they weren't talking over me, they were whispering or passing notes. I saw one girl in the back just sit and put on nail polish. One of the boys just spit into a cup every ten seconds or so. I thought he had chewing tobacco so I walked past him to see, but the spit wasn't brown! It was just spit! What the bloody hell is that about!?"

Harry had to laugh. Teenagers were unpleasant at the best of times, and poor Ruth had taken a job teaching English at a public school in the neighboring city. Obviously the youth of Suffolk were not the politest bunch.

"It's not nice to laugh at your wife when she's upset," Ruth grumbled, letting her head fall back in defeat.

"This was just your first day," he reasoned as he took a seat beside her. Harry pulled her into his arms, and she fell into him like a ragdoll. "Come on now, you're Ruth Evershed. There is nothing you can't do."

"I'm Ruth Evershed Pearce and there's plenty I can't do. Obviously teaching fourteen-year-olds is one of them."

Harry clicked his tongue at her in disapproval. "None of that. You have brought down hackers and suicide bombers and whole terrorist cells with that brilliant brain of yours. And you will figure this out just like you've figured everything out. Now tell me what you've got planned," he prompted.

Ruth fell quiet for a moment, snuggling against Harry and thinking. And thinking. And doing what she did best. "They don't respect me because they think I'm weak. And I don't have the right look to be a threat to them. Having them fear me would only be worse in the end. Children that age want to prove themselves, they'll try to outdo each other to prove they're not afraid of me."

He nodded, feeling the old thrill once again of working with Ruth on a complex problem. There was no life and death associated with this problem, to be sure, but that made it all the better.

"They need to be impressed by me. They need to see me as an ally, someone they can trust," Ruth continued, still thinking aloud.

"So you need to show them that you aren't someone to be pushed around but that you're kind and gentle. You need to refuse to take any of their guff but not be blindsided when they challenge you."

She nodded now, gaining momentum with where they were going. "I need to be one step ahead of them. And not to be immodest, but they're children and I'm an MI-5 Senior Analyst."

"Yes, I think you can handle it," Harry chuckled.

Ruth got up and began pacing back and forth. "I'll start the next class not even trying to quiet them down. I can't shout over them anyway. I'll write something on the board and then I'll walk right up to one of the students and ask a question. And if they weren't paying attention, I'll make a cutting remark and move on to the next student before they can even try a witty comeback."

"You'll startle them. And the others will start paying attention to just to watch you best their classmates."

She stopped pacing and turned to Harry with a grin. "That's it. That's how I'll get them."

He smiled affectionately at her. "Well done, Ruth."

"And if it doesn't work, I'll just tell them that my husband has killed dozens of me and even at fifty-five years old, he's still lethal."

"I'm not fifty-five yet!" he protested.

Ruth laughed and returned to her place on the sofa, throwing her arms around his neck. "I don't care how old you are, you're still killer."

"The only place I want to be killer now is in our bedroom."

She gave a cheeky sort of smirk. "That's exactly what I meant."

Harry let out a bark of a laugh and kissed her. "Well, I am quite hot for teacher, so I suppose it's all for the best."

Ruth hummed against his lips as she kissed him again. "What do you say we celebrate my first day?"

"I thought you had a bad first day."

"I did, but I think we can anticipate a very good second day." Her kisses traveled down his neck, nipping at the soft skin of his throat.

"Lady Pearce, are you trying to seduce me?"

"Yes," she replied earnestly.

Harry used his superior strength and size to flip her onto her back and cover her with his body. "Well, it's working."

And that was how four o'clock in the afternoon became Harry's favorite time of day. Ruth would come home from work and tell him all about her day and then they'd wile away the time before dinner having some afterschool fun.


	66. Chapter 66

_Spring 2009_

It was the last day of one of the stranger weeks of Harry's life. He had never expected anything like this. He certainly wasn't prepared for it. But more than anything, he wasn't prepared for how wonderful it was.

Now that he and Ruth were well and properly settled in their new house and in their new life, young Wesley Carter had come to spend his Easter holiday with Uncle Harry and Auntie Ruth. He lived with his grandparents now and attended boarding school since he'd been orphaned. But by all accounts, he was adjusting well and living a life that would have made his parents quite proud.

Unfortunately, Wes's time off from school did not coincide with Ruth's time off from school, so she had to go to work each day and left the boys home by themselves till she finished her working day. And Harry and Wes had spent the time having lovely adventures.

They explored every inch of the woods on the property—something Harry and Ruth had done a bit of on the weekends before the weather turned too cold their first winter there. They went to the beach to search for seashells to bring home to Ruth and to annoy the little crabs and birds that made their homes in the sand.

Wes had always been a bright boy, and he asked Harry a million questions. And Harry did his best to be patient and answer them as best he could. Before his retirement, such things might have annoyed him and he likely would have been a bit curt with Wes. But now he had all the time in the world to ponder why the moss grew on only one side of that tree or what made the seaweed wash up on shore or when the fields would grow higher than Wes's head.

The boys were outside rather late that day. They'd gotten a later start, as there was a movie on television that Wes wanted to watch. Harry didn't mind, though he did worry about himself getting to comfortable with spending hours sitting in front of the telly. Dangerous thing, retirement. But he was happy watching the movie with Wes and letting Fidget curl up on his lap. He was getting on a bit, poor lad. He still hid from visitors but he was less agile than he used to be.

But after the movie was over and they had their lunch, Wes and Harry went out to see the last corner of forest on the map of the property that Harry had shown him. It was dark back there, and other than when Wes jumped on a fallen log and crashed through it into a mud puddle, they'd had a marvelous time.

That was the part Harry hadn't expected. He honestly hadn't expected to have so much fun with a young boy. He'd gotten on with Wes for short periods of time when he was little, back when Adam and Fiona were working for him. But Wes had grown up a lot since then. Being orphaned made him grow up even more. And this had been the longest he'd spend with a child that age in his whole life. He'd been far too busy when his own children were that age. Even the weekends he was supposed to spend with Graham and Catherine had been too often cut short. Wes had been with them for five whole days, and Harry had not found himself searching for excuses to get away from the awkwardness of being with him. There was no awkwardness.

Ruth was already home when they got back to the house. Wes ran inside to tell her all about their day.

"There you are! I'd wondered if you'd gotten swallowed up by the troll that lives in the forest," Ruth greeted with a teasing smile.

"There's no troll in the forest, Auntie Ruth. Uncle Harry and I explored the whole thing," Wes explained. "We saw the last of it today."

"And no troll?" she asked.

"No troll," he confirmed.

"But we did find a lovely patch of mud under a log, so Wes, go up and shower right now and change your clothes. I don't want you tracking dirt all over the place. Leave your shoes out in the hall and off the rug, please," Harry instructed. After all, he was the one who did most of the cleaning, staying at home while Ruth worked. But he liked it that way. She wasn't an unclean person, but she was certainly more comfortable with a bit of mess than Harry was. And he'd learned rather quickly that if he was bothered, he had to do something about it.

Wes did as he was told, bounding up the stairs to clean himself up before dinner.

Ruth came over to give Harry a kiss hello. "I'm glad you made it back when you did. I don't like the idea of you out there in the dark," she said once they'd broken apart.

"I shouldn't think you'd be worried about me lost in the woods, Ruth. I've certainly survived worse," he reminded her.

"I know you have, but that doesn't mean I won't worry when you're off somewhere without me. Besides, I don't care if you have survived worse, tripping over a tree in the dark and hitting your head on a rock can happen no matter how much field training you've had."

He smiled affectionately. "Whatever you say, darling."

"You're placating me, but I don't care," she replied, kissing him again.

Harry indulged with his wife for a moment. They'd hardly had any time alone since Wes had been staying with them. The one good thing about the boy leaving would be that they could have sex again. It had been quite some time since they'd had to keep their hands off each other for so long.

Ruth pulled away from their kiss and studied Harry's face. He let her stare at her for a minute before he asked what she was thinking about.

"I was just thinking about how you are with Wes. It's wonderful to see you with him. You're so good with him. You always have been."

"I'm a bit surprised myself."

"Well, I'm not surprised, I just never really thought I'd get to see you with a child. Makes me…" she trailed off, averting her eyes.

"Makes you what?" he pressed.

Ruth chewed on her lip for a moment before she confessed her thoughts. "Makes me wish we could have a child."

Harry thought he may have blacked out for a second at that. "You…you do?"

"Well, I know you don't want children, so forget I said anything."

"Who said I don't want children?" he fired back.

She stared at him with wide eyes. "I just assumed…"

He interrupted again. "Ruth, do you want children? We've never actually discussed it before, I'm realizing."

"I thought you wouldn't want to have a baby. I mean, you've done all that."

"But you haven't," he pointed out.

"I know, but I married you and I just…I thought that's what I signed on for."

Harry took her hands in his and brought them to his chest and asked her again, "Ruth, do you want children?"

She considered her words carefully. "I have thought about it. With you, I mean. I never really considered it in any real sense till I met you. I had these sort of fantasies about having a family with you."

Harry's heart thundered in his chest. He had honestly not given it any thought before. But Ruth was still plenty young enough to have a baby. And Harry himself wasn't completely over the hill yet. "I didn't know," he breathed.

"Well, do you want children?" she asked, turning the issue back on him.

He smiled softly, letting go of one of her hands to stroke her cheek. "I think you'd be a wonderful mother, Ruth. And I think now, in this house, married to you, I might not be a failure as a father this time around."

"You will be a wonderful father," she replied with conviction.

"I will?"

"You will."


	67. Chapter 67

"Yay!" Penny exclaimed. "I get to be in the story now!"

Harry laughed at her exuberance. "Soon, sweetheart. But not just yet. We had lots to go through before we got to bring you home."

Their daughter frowned. "Why?"

"Well it was quite a process. Babies don't just appear because you want them," Ruth explained gently.

"Though sometimes it feels like they do when you'd rather they didn't," Harry grumbled. He was struck with the rather painful memory of Jane threatening to divorce him and about a week later revealing that she was pregnant with Graham. Their marriage hobbled along for another few years after that until she finally got around to leaving him. At the time, it had been one of the worst experiences of his life but ended up, in all honesty, one of the best things that could have happened for all of them. Harry wasn't going to change, not then. He hadn't wanted to. And Graham and Catherine deserved so much better. As did Jane. She needed so much more than Harry had the capacity to give her. And he needed to be on his own and grow up before he could be a husband and father the way he'd always hoped he could be. It had been over thirty years, but he was rather sure he'd managed it.

Ruth continued as Harry was lost in his thoughts. "But you, little love, you took time to come to us, but we were so excited to have you."

Penny smiled at that. Ruth was glad to always tell their daughter how much she was loved and how wanted and cherished she was and always had been since the day she entered their lives. She hadn't gotten enough of that in her own childhood, she'd come to realize. And Ruth desperately wanted her child to grow up better than she had. Ruth knew she'd turned out alright, but she did hope that things might be just a little easier for Penny.

Harry still looked a bit maudlin, so Ruth whispered, "Go give your daddy a hug. I think he needs it."

Penny hopped up and crossed to where Harry was sitting. She climbed up on his lap once again and squished his cheeks till he was smiling. "I love you, Daddy," she told him.

"Oh I love you too, Penny. More than anything." Harry gathered his little girl into his arms and held her tight.

"Will you tell more of the story now?"

"Yes, I'll tell more of the story now." Harry released her and kissed her forehead. "Go sit with Mummy, and I'll tell you what happened next while we were waiting for you to come into the world.


	68. Chapter 68

**A/N: slight M-rating for this chapter**

 _Late Summer 2009_

Harry came home from his trip to the market to find the house a bit dark and eerily quiet. "Ruth?" he called out, wondering where she could be. Her car was in the drive, so she hadn't gone anywhere. Unless she'd gone out for a walk. She'd been doing that lately, going off to be by herself and stare at the ocean or sit under a tree in the woods. Harry didn't particularly like that, but he understood it and tried to leave her be. She was too smart for her own good, sometimes. They say ignorance is bliss, and that might have been why Ruth had a tendency towards these depressive moods. Especially now.

There was no answer to his call, so Harry sighed to himself and took his time putting away the groceries before wandering around the house. Fidget was in his usual place by the window, too old and tired to move around too much anymore. Mopsy was following Harry from room to room, bless her.

Eventually, he found Ruth in their bedroom, curled up in a ball in the middle of the bed on top of the duvet. "There you are. Did you hear me call for you?"

She made a small sound in response that gave no indication of any sort of meaning.

Harry sat down beside her and stroked her hair. "I take it there's nothing new?"

Ruth jerked her head in the direction of the nightstand. There, resting on a tissue, was a sight Harry had become extremely accustomed to in the last six months. He picked up the white plastic and saw that single telltale pink line. Not pregnant.

He suspected she'd been buying pregnancy tests in bulk, using one every three weeks like this. There was once in the middle of summer when there'd been a faint second line. They'd been so happy, so excited to start their family. Only the next day, Ruth got her monthly and plunged deep into a depression that lasted almost a whole week. This seemed to be like that.

Even Harry had convinced himself that this time they might have conceived. Ruth had been tired and lost her appetite in the mornings. But they'd probably just tricked themselves, they wanted it so badly.

After that first tentative discussion six months earlier when Wes had visited, they'd both come 'round to the idea of a baby. Harry had visions of seeing Ruth pregnant and glowing, the both of them being exhausted for months while their child cried through the night, the way they'd look at each other when their nerves were frayed and just smile. After all, he and Ruth had gone through hell and back. They'd worked their share of sleepless nights. Sometimes many in a row. But they'd never gotten to be so happy about it. A baby. A baby would be happy. And now that they'd committed to the idea, Harry wanted it more than anything in the world. He saw how intensely Ruth wanted to become a mother, and he desperately wanted to give her that gift. To give _them_ that gift. He was going to be better, this time around. He'd be better to his wife and better to his child. And he had even tried harder with his grown children, speaking to Catherine as often as he could when she was available and asking her to give his regards to Graham whenever she spoke to him. It was all he could do for the time being.

Ruth had made him promise that they wouldn't start getting the nursery ready or buying anything until she was actually pregnant. And now he was glad for it. Having even a baby blanket around the house while they were suffering through the interminable waiting would have been too painful.

But it certainly wasn't all bad. As hard as it was to see negative result after negative result, the trying was quite fun. Ruth had done a lot of research—of course she had, she was still Ruth, after all—and determined the time of day and frequency and position and even speed at which they should have sex for the best chance of conception. Despite the planned nature of it, Harry was more than happy to make love to his wife four times each week at seven in the evening as she contorted herself upside down on their bed. He liked routine, and he liked the challenge of being creative within the confines. One night he'd even managed to make her come three times just from varying the angle and pressure of his thrusts. And when he'd finally finished inside her, the overwhelming pleasure they both experienced actually made them pass out. He'd rather hoped they'd been able to make a baby from that, but they'd have plenty of other opportunities.

"Darling, why don't you take a bath, hmm? I'll bring you some dinner and we can eat upstairs," he suggested.

"I'm not hungry," she mumbled.

"Well I am."

Ruth sighed sadly. "Then please go eat. I don't want you to suffer on my account."

From anyone else, such words might have come across passive aggressive and self-pitying. But not Ruth. Ruth was genuinely sincere about it. And it absolutely broke his heart. "How about if you to take a bath and I'll get something to eat and then I can come join you later?" he offered.

She turned her head to look up at him, and she smiled softly. "I would like you to join me in the bath."

He traced her lips with his thumb. "Go run the bath and I'll be right in. I'll just have a bit of toast."

Ruth hauled herself upright. "Alright, but make sure you do eat. I'll know if your stomach is rumbling, and I'll feel very bad about it."

Harry gave a small snort of amusement. Even in the midst of a depressive mood, she was still witty and charming. He gave her a quick kiss and they both left the bedroom to go their separate ways for the time being.

As he munched on his toast downstairs, Harry's mind wandered and landed on their predicament, as it often did. He absent-mindedly tossed crumbs to Mopsy and watched the cat try to catch the bits of bread like her prey.

It had been six whole months of trying to get pregnant. And perhaps that was normal for people their age. Harry would be fifty-six in just two months. Ruth was halfway between thirty-nine and forty. He always thought of her as being so much younger than he—and she was—but that didn't mean she was young. Forty was really pushing the line of a woman's fertility, he knew. Men didn't have the same problems. Didn't Picasso father a child in his seventies? But not all men are Pablo Picasso. And men who put their bodies through awful things, things like torture and extreme physical conditions and alcohol abuse and inordinate stress and dangerous drug combinations, could lose their sperm count with much less effort. And Harry had gone through all of it. He'd been barely out of the army when he married Jane and their had their children. He'd not experienced very much by then. They'd been young and relatively carefree. But now, he was old, and his old body was tired and weary. There was every chance that Ruth was brimming with fertility and he was the one with the problem. And while he liked to think he'd never shot blanks literally or euphemistically, he was less certain about the latter.

Ruth was lying in the bubble bath when he made his way up to their master bathroom. They'd gotten this tub specifically so they could take baths together. It wasn't something Harry would have ever considered but Ruth had confessed her fantasy of having their bodies slide together under the warm water, and that had thoroughly convinced him of the marvelous luxury of taking a bubble bath. She sat up and scooted forward so he could get in behind her. They were well-practiced now at fitting together in the bath. Harry sat back with his legs stretched out and Ruth sat between them and rested her back on his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her under the water and softly kissed the side of her neck. "I love you," he murmured against her skin. "I love you more than anything."

She just gave another sad little sigh.

All Harry wanted to do was to make her feel better. And while he was not a limited man in most respects, he was with things like this. There was only so much he could do. But what he could do, he knew he could do quite well.

Harry's hands began to move over her skin, softly caressing her stomach and her breasts and her thighs and coaxing her legs apart. And when his fingers brushed up against her folds, she whimpered softly.

"Let me make you feel good, Ruth," he asked, begging for her to allow him this privilege.

All she could do was nod as she bent her knees and let her legs fall open for him under the water.

It was strange, touching her underwater like this. It was highly erotic, actually, but everything felt different. Perhaps it felt different for Ruth, too. But he was undeterred. He stroked her at varying speeds and pressures till he found what seemed to wok for her. His index finger dipped inside her wet heat—even hotter and wetter and slicker than the bubbly bathwater they were lying in—and furiously rubbed her with his thumb.

Ruth jerked against his hand, grinding herself against his touch. Her movements were making waves in the bath, but neither of them paid it any mind. She was close, and he could feel it. She was gasping and trembling with the tension coiling in her body. "Harry…" she moaned, begging him to tip her over the edge.

In a moment of madness, Harry sunk his teeth into her neck and he thrust his fingers hard inside her. Ruth let out a strangled sort of scream and came hard around his hand. He could not move if he tried, so he stilled and held her gently. Her body was pulsing with aftershocks as she tried to catch her breath before finally she finally relaxed in his arms.

"Oh my god," she said in a hoarse tone.

He smiled against her skin, glad he'd succeeded with his efforts. He proceeded to softly kiss her neck again. "Feeling better?"

Harry felt her nod and that was all he needed. They were quiet, then, just holding each other in the bath. The bubbles had long since gone, but that was no matter.

After a moment, Ruth's body began to shake against his again, though not at all in the same way. A sob escaped her quiet suddenly. "Ruth? Oh no, darling, I'm so sorry," he said frantically, trying to maneuver around as she started to cry.

"No, it's not your fault. That was wonderful. You're wonderful. I just…I didn't realize how much I was holding back," she said between hitched breaths.

Harry held her tight against him. "Then let it out, Ruth, it's alright. Everything's alright."

"I'm so sorry, Harry. It's all my fault."

"Shh, it's not your fault. Nothing's your fault," he soothed.

But she shook her head. "This was all my idea, trying to have a baby, and it's been so long and nothing's happened and we're both upset, and that's my fault!"

"Ruth, nothing we have done has been without my full and complete cooperation. I am not trying to get you pregnant just to humor you. I want this baby just as much as you do. We are in this together, every step of the way."

She was starting to calm down as he spoke to her in firm but kind tones. Eventually her shuddering breaths normalized and she could speak again. "I just don't know what to do. I don't want to give up, but I don't want to make it worse by trying too hard, if that makes sense."

"Yes, it makes sense," he replied. "And I quite agree. And I do have a thought about it, if you want to hear it."

"Of course I do."

He gave her a little squeeze at that. "I say we give it a year."

"A year?"

"A year from when we started. We shouldn't add any more worries as the holidays get closer. We can wait till after the new year. And if by next spring, nothing's changed, then we look at our options. There are specialist doctors we can go see. There are tests and treatments we can try."

"Do you really want to go through all that?" she asked warily.

Harry thanked the heavens for their long history together that allowed him to know precisely what she meant. And he agreed completely, that spending time and money getting poked and prodded by doctors and being told in very clinical terms exactly what was wrong with them and why all their marvelous sex was getting them nowhere would be even worse than the not knowing at all. "There are other options besides that. We could…" he trailed off looking for the words. "Ruth, I want very much for us to have our child this way, for you and I to create a life to grow inside you." He placed his hands on her belly at that, imagining as he had quite a lot recently that she had their baby inside her already. "But more than anything, I just want to have a family with you, and any child we raise together is going to be ours. So…when the time comes, we could look at adopting."

She craned her neck around to look up at him. "You wouldn't mind adopting?"

"Not at all," he told her firmly. "We want a family and there might be a child out there who needs us to be its parents. And maybe that's how we'll have our family. I wouldn't mind if you don't."

Ruth was hesitant, which Harry didn't blame her for in the least. She, like he, had the romantic fantasy of being pregnant having a baby. "We give it a year," she said finally. "And we'll see where we are."

Harry was about to respond when his stomach rumbled.

"Oh Harry, I told you to eat!" she scolded, laughing.

"I did! But then I burned quite a lot of calories getting you off," he defended.

She laughed more at that. "Well you worked up my appetite, too. Let's make some of that leftover linguine. And then after that, I'm going to do all the dishes and I can show you my appreciation for all your efforts."

He watched her stand up in the bath, dripping and naked and gorgeous. "We can come up to bed and try again."

Surprisingly, Ruth shook her head. "We can try again tomorrow. Tonight isn't going to be about a baby anymore. Tonight is going to be about us. And if I want to give my husband a blowjob in the kitchen, I bloody well will."

Her words got him half-hard in an instant. He'd been nearly ready to go after the bath, but then her tears quelled his arousal. It was back with a vengeance now. Harry swallowed hard to keep control of himself for the time being. "Well, I don't want to hurt my chances of getting that blowjob in the kitchen, but I should probably point out that I think I left quite a bite mark on your neck."

Ruth hurried over to the mirror to inspect the damage. She sighed in resignation. "Well, I don't love the mark, but I did very much love you making it, so I suppose I'll make do." She handed him a towel and put on her dressing gown. When he'd put his own robe on, she took his hand to lead him downstairs. "Come on, let's move along," she prompted.

Harry nodded. They were certainly moving along.


	69. Chapter 69

_Late Spring 2010_

It had been a strange sort of day. They'd driven into the city early that morning, both of them quiet and gravely serious. But they'd made the appointment, they'd discussed everything that needed to be discussed, and they were going to follow through. After all, this was what they'd decided.

One year, they'd agreed. One year of trying to get pregnant the old-fashioned way, and if nothing happened, they'd go to the doctor. And no luck. So they'd swallowed their pride and made an appointment with a fertility specialist. The both of them were absolutely terrified by the prospect, being examined and judged and found faulty in that most intimate and personal of ways. Harry was so sure it was him. After all, how could it not be? He was fifty-six years old and he'd experienced every sort of trauma a person could possibly face. There was absolutely no way he wasn't sterile.

Ruth was equally certain she was the source of the problem. Too many times over the last year she'd skipped a period and taken a pregnancy test only to be disappointed. Her cycle had gone very irregular, something she assured Harry had never been a problem for her before. She'd gone through much more stress than this before, between working at Five and her time being seemingly abandoned in Italy during her exile, and then nearly getting blown to bits along with Connie. Teaching English classes and trying to get pregnant with her husband should not have been a problem. Except it clearly was. She was rather convinced that she was going through early menopause and she was barren already at forty.

And so they'd gone to the doctor. They'd nervously held hands as they filled out paperwork that asked deeply invasive questions. They'd let nurses draw blood from each of them. They'd given all sorts of samples of bodily fluids. All in all, a bothersome experience. By the end of it, they walked out to the car both feeling more like lab rats than people trying to become parents.

The rest of the day had been quiet as well. Ruth, who Harry knew had tried so hard to stay strong and stoic and optimistic, was falling back into her depression. And Harry did not know how to help her.

"Maybe this just isn't meant for us," she said sadly, putting milk in the tea before bringing the cups to the kitchen table for them to share.

Harry thanked her and took a sip before answering, "Let's just see what the results are and we can go from there. You know better, Ruth, than to make a decision without gathering the necessary information."

She knew he was right, but she wasn't in the best place to be able to hear it. "How would the adoption process work?" she asked, shifting the subject as she drank her tea.

He wrapped his hands around the warm mug, hoping some of the heat might infuse into his bloodstream and quell this empty, desperate feeling. "I haven't looked into it. But no doubt there's plenty of ways we can go about it. Foreign adoption. Contracting with a pregnant woman looking to give up a baby. Finding an orphanage. Do you have a preference?"

Ruth was about to respond when the telephone rang. She sighed and got up to get it on the line in the hallway. Harry stayed where he was and eavesdropped on her side of the conversation.

"Yes, this is Ruth Evershed Pearce…Oh yes, hello…Oh! Yes, th-that's fine…Yes, thank you…Yes, goodbye."

That was an odd rollercoaster of emotions, it seemed to Harry. "Everything alright?" he asked, once he heard her hang up.

Ruth walked in and stood in the doorway. "Harry…"

He turned to look at her. She looked extremely agitated over something. There was a tension in her body that made her look ready to fly apart. And that expression on her face was strangely unreadable. Harry stood up immediately to go to her. "Who was on the phone, Ruth?" he asked.

She swallowed hard and blinked back tears. "That was the clinic we went to this morning."

"And?" he prompted, waiting for her answer on bated breath.

A sob escaped her lips and her face broke out into a smile. "Harry, I'm pregnant!"

"You-you're sure?" he stammered in shock.

"Yes, I'm sure. They got the results from my first round of tests. Five weeks along," she laughed. It was the most wonderful news and she was beyond delighted to hear it and share it with him.

Harry himself began to laugh in amazement. He came toward her across the kitchen in two great strides with the biggest grin on his face. He grabbed her by the hips and lifted her up into his embrace.

"Put me down, you're going to hurt yourself," she shrieked, still laughing over the news.

He grabbed enormous handfuls of her bum and squeezed it playfully. "Oh Christ, I love you so much," he told her.

Ruth just held him tight, hoping he wouldn't drop her, and she smiled. She wasn't sure she would ever stop smiling.

Harry spun her around delightedly before he finally put her down. "I probably shouldn't swing you about like that in your condition," he realized.

But Ruth didn't mind at all. She just threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. "After all of this, it's finally happened. Harry, we're going to have a baby!"

"We are! Oh Ruth, you're going to be such a wonderful mother. I can't quite believe it's real. That any of this is real."

"Any of what?" she asked, regarding him curiously. Her eyes were still shining with pure joy.

"You. Us. I never thought I could be this happy, Ruth. I certainly don't deserve it. After all the horrible things in my miserable life, I'm here with you in our house in the country. We're married, we have a baby on the way. It's more than I ever imagined in my wildest dreams." He kissed her again at that, because he could, because his heart was fit to burst over it all. "And I can't wait to meet our son," he added.

"Son?"

"I've just got a feeling about it. I don't care if we have a boy or a girl, I just think we'll have a boy." The image flashed in his mind conjured by a drug-fueled hallucination of adrenaline and fear and stress. When he'd been tortured and interrogated about Sugarhorse. He'd seen Graham, heard him call out. And then it shifted to Ruth holding a blue bundle and holding a tiny little hand to wave at him, calling him 'Daddy.' And though that moment had been brought about by the worst he could imagine, he had not left him. He felt very sure that he and Ruth would have a son.

Ruth seemed to take his answer at face value for the time being. She just shrugged and said, "Boy or girl, doesn't matter to me. I just can't wait to meet our baby."

Harry pulled back from her just slightly so he could slip a hand up underneath her blouse to her belly. There was no change he could notice so far. Still warm and pale and flat. But she would start showing soon, he imagined. "You're pregnant," he breathed, still absolutely amazed.

She put her hand atop his over her womb and smiled. "And this time next year, we'll be parents."

He grinned madly and kissed her again. Because he could. Because his heart was fit to burst over it all.


	70. Chapter 70

_Early Winter 2010_

Ruth hated being pregnant. Well, that was perhaps an inaccurate statement. She loved being pregnant, but she insisted she was bad at it. Every day there was a new complaint as their baby grew inside her.

Despite the troubles they'd had getting pregnant, every single doctor's visit yielded the same statement: "You're doing perfectly, Ruth. Everything is progressing exactly as it should." Harry was more comforted by that statement than he could possibly express. Ruth's age really did make them both a bit nervous. Women had babies in their forties all the time, but the risk of complications at having the first baby at age forty were much higher. Every few weeks, Harry would get worried again as they got closer to the next checkup, and then his fears would be eased each and every time. This was somehow more stressful for him than working for MI-5.

But despite Ruth and baby being both healthy as could be, the entire process was less than fun for her. She'd always been a small thing, and growing bigger with her pregnancy caused all sorts of issues. The swelling made it difficult for her to walk, though she tried to remain active for everyone involved. The wind on the beach made her skin very dry, which annoyed her. She was constantly nauseous and had to force food down, though she thankfully had only experienced about a week of morning sickness where she'd actually been vomiting. But feeling mildly ill all the time made keeping proper nutrition and hydration difficult. Harry helped as best he could, cooking anything she thought she might want and keeping the kitchen stocked with simple, easy things for her to eat whenever she was able.

The worst part, however, was the exhaustion. She was tired all the time. She had trouble sleeping through the night thanks to the nausea, though when that went away, she had back pains that made it impossible to get comfortable in bed. She tossed and turned, keeping Harry up, too. But Harry was retired. Ruth was the one who had to get up and teach classes five days a week.

He'd told her to take time off, that the school could get a substitute. But she wouldn't hear of it. She was devoted to her students. This was her second school year, and she'd earned a reputation as being a difficult grader but a kind and trustworthy teacher. Those children adored her, as Harry knew they would. And she did not want to abandon them until she had to. Her due date was not until January, so she insisted on finishing out the term. She would take the following term off for her maternity leave and return in the fall. That was the plan she'd decided on and nothing would sway her from it. Harry didn't quite like it, but she was a stubborn mule and he knew he couldn't sway her.

But even though Ruth was tired all the time, her mind was still alert and sharp as ever. She was physically exhausted, so she spent nearly all her free time just lying on the sofa reading. She'd gone on a Classics bend once more, which Harry did not think was too significant, as she'd read Classics at Oxford and had an affection for those ancient Greeks. But Ruth informed him that reading these old epics was quite significant indeed.

"It's been a long time since I've read them. The last time I did was when I moved to London. When I started at Five," she told him.

A memory popped into Harry's mind. "Metamorphoses."

"Ovid, yes, what about it?"

He smiled. "The first drink we ever shared, just the two of us, you told me that's what you were reading on the bus on your way home that night when I offered you a lift."

Ruth herself hadn't even remembered that till he mentioned it just then. "That's right, I was! And then for my birthday, you got me Amores."

"That was the next birthday. I got you that stupid book on cats for your birthday the first year we knew each other."

She laughed, "Yes, that's right. I had wondered at the time if you'd ever gotten gifts for your staff before."

"I think I got a good bottle of scotch for Malcolm for the major birthdays. Forty and fifty. But since I've known you, I think I've only missed one birthday for you."

The memory of her birthday all alone in Italy, ending with the rather brutal beating she received from those men who robbed her shop came to mind. "Well, you won't ever miss a birthday again. I think that's implicit in the wedding vows."

Harry chuckled at that. "Quite right. So, any particular reason you've gotten your Classics out again now? Or are you just in the mood for some ridiculously complicated names?"

"I find them comforting during times of transition in my life. And I think being pregnant is probably the biggest transition I'll ever face. Becoming a mother and all. And actually, since you mentioned names…"

"Oh god, you're not going to name our child something Greek, are you?"

Ruth glared at him for that rude interruption. "What have you got against something Greek?"

Harry sighed, knowing he'd well and truly dug himself a hole with this one. They had been purposefully putting off thinking of names, but now that they were just over two months from the due date, they needed to give it some serious consideration. And so far, they'd both had a list of names they _didn't_ like and had yet to come up with anything they actually liked. "What should we name her?" he asked, hoping to avoid a fight.

She brightened a bit at that. It had taken some getting used to, referring to their unborn child as 'her.' They'd gotten the ultrasound a month earlier and learned they were expecting a girl. Harry had been quite shocked at that, since he'd rather convinced himself they would be having a boy. But he found that he liked the idea of a daughter much more. Ruth and the baby, his two marvelous girls. And just now, his wife was rifling through the book in her hands to find a particular passage. "Here," she said, pointing to a spot on the page. "Read that."

Harry took the book and saw that it was The Odyssey. Thankfully, Ruth was reading an English translation, rather than the original Ancient Greek. She had been doing that with some of the other works, he'd noticed. His eyes quickly skimmed over the page, reading of Penelope using her clever cunning to ensure that Odysseus was truly the man he claimed to be and dispel her doubts. "What am I supposed to get from this?"

"Penelope."

"What about her?"

Ruth placed her hands on her belly. "Her name is Penelope."

Harry frowned immediately. "You want to name our daughter Penelope?"

"Yes! It's the perfect name. It's traditional but still relevant. It's a character from mythology, she represents someone who is loyal and strong-willed and extremely intelligent and talented and renowned for all those things. And those are traits I think our daughter will have," Ruth explained.

He had to admit that she made a good case. The character was certainly a valiant role model for a girl. "But isn't the name Penelope a bit too…grown up?"

"There's always a nickname. You could call her Penny," Ruth suggested.

"Penny Pearce sounds like the name of a comic book character," Harry glowered.

"Well her father is essentially a real-life James Bond, so perhaps the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," she snapped.

He still wasn't quite convinced.

Ruth sighed. "Harry, I feel really strongly about this. Maybe it's that mother's intuition I've been waiting to feel, but I really do think that this is her name."

Harry scooted over on the sofa and leaned in to Ruth's big pregnant belly beneath the soft dress she wore. He placed his hands on her and murmured to the unborn baby inside, "What do you think, hmm? Is your name Penelope? Should I call you Penny?"

To everyone's surprise, the baby began to kick rather fiercely, her little limbs fluttering against Harry's hand. He and Ruth both started to laugh. "I think you've got your answer, Harry," Ruth told him.

He pressed a kiss to the belly and then to Ruth's lips. "I would say so."

"And because I believe in fairness and our equal participation as parents, you should choose her middle name. Whatever you want to name her. Penelope Whatever Pearce."

"I don't think I'll call her 'Whatever' but thank you, I'll have to give it some thought," he replied warmly.

"I was thinking earlier about naming her after someone, but I didn't really have anyone in particular in mind. But just so long as she isn't called Jane or Juliet or Tessa, I'll be happy," Ruth said.

No, he was not going to name their daughter after any woman he used to sleep with. And that was when Harry knew exactly what he'd call their daughter. "I'm going to name her after someone, I think," he told her. "Someone important."

"Oh? Who?"

"You said I could choose. And I don't want to give you two months to talk me into changing my mind. I know how you get. So I'm going to keep it to myself till we put it on her birth certificate. But she will be Penelope Pearce, so don't fret about it too much," he advised. Harry kissed her one more time before standing up. "I'll get started on the dinner."

Ruth was left on the sofa, frowning and thinking of who Harry could possibly name their daughter for. Probably his mother, Fiona, who had died when he was at Oxford. Or maybe Connie, the complicated and dear friend who had meant so much to him for so much of his life. Or maybe there was someone else that Ruth didn't even know about.

Fidget walked over to join Ruth. He'd been very protective of her ever since she'd gotten pregnant, and he was never far away. But the arthritis that he'd developed in his old age was getting the better of him. Ruth had to pick him up since he couldn't jump onto the sofa on his own.

The cat immediately nuzzled Ruth's belly and began to purr. "That's Penelope in there," she told him. "I'll do my best to make sure she doesn't pull your whiskers." She placed a hand over where the baby was kicking. "You hear that, Penelope? You be nice to Fidget. He's a very good cat."

Fidget just kept purring.


	71. Chapter 71

"Harry, I think we can probably skip ahead. Not much happened until I went into labor, don't you think?" Ruth asked, interrupting the story.

But Penny would hear nothing of it. "No, don't skip! What was it like when I was in your tummy?" she asked, pressing her little hands into Ruth's stomach, practically knocking the wind out of her.

"Oh lord, well, there's nothing in there now! Just my internal organs and now you've squashed them!" Ruth responded with a small laugh. She got her daughter back by tickling her a little bit. Penny shrieked and ran away, climbing back up on Harry's lap and away from her mother's threatening hands.

Harry picked her up and held her, giving her a little kiss. "What do you want to know about when you were in Mummy's belly, hmm?" When Penny didn't seem to have an answer, Harry gave some suggestions. "How about when her skin was getting stretched to make room for you and I got to rub cocoa butter all over her each night before bed?"

Ruth looked warningly at him for that remark. While the things he'd said were true, she did not need him to tell their daughter that almost every night, Harry would massage her and rub lotion all over her and inevitably work his hands up between her legs. After all, they'd gotten used to having quite a lot of sex while trying to conceive that they could not really get out of the habit while she was pregnant. Ruth was beyond grateful for that, since she felt absolutely awful most of the time but her hormones made her get turned on by practically everything. A lesser husband than Harry would not have paid so much attention; she was mostly amazed that he was miraculously still attracted to her when she was big as a house and grumpy all the time.

But Harry did not give any further details about massaging Ruth's stretch marks. He continued on, "Or how about when Ruth ate the most disgusting things that would turn my stomach?"

That made Penny laugh. She had the same rather strange sense of humor as her father, to Ruth's chagrin.

"Oh don't put it like that! It isn't my fault that you were bothered by sauerkraut and chili sauce," Ruth grumbled.

Harry made a face, mostly to make Penny laugh again. "You put it on everything, Ruth. Toast and eggs and pasta and even bloody salad!"

Penny was giggling up a storm. "Mummy, that's gross!"

Ruth just threw up her hands in defeat.

"We did keep rather busy while we were waiting for you, Penny," Harry went on to tell her. "While your mother was still working, I was getting everything all ready in your room. I built all that furniture myself," he said proudly.

"Well you didn't chop down trees and build a crib, you followed instructions from a box," Ruth pointed out.

"Yes, but they're complicated instructions," he pouted.

"You did a wonderful job, love," Ruth replied, placating him slightly. "And all that heavy lifting and the refusal to eat while my food disgusted you and cutting down on the scotch made you lose quite a bit of weight."

Penny swiveled around on Harry's lap to put her hands on his belly this time. "Really?" She obviously was not very convinced that her father had lost a lot of weight.

"Yes, really!" Harry laughed. "You look up there at our wedding photo and you look at photos of me when you were a baby, and you'll see. I may have gained a bit of it back now that I'm not constantly running after you all through the house."

"And at the time, I kept gaining weight and you kept losing it and I got very upset because it was all very unfair," Ruth added.

Harry just smiled at her. "As I've said before, darling, you will always be younger and prettier than me, and everyone who sees us is constantly baffled what you'd do with an old sod like me."

"I will not have you speak about the father of my child that way," she chided.

Penny was starting to feel a bit ignored, so she inserted herself into the conversation again. "Being pregnant sounds hard."

"Yes, it is," Ruth confirmed. "But it was well worth the sleepless nights and horrible discomfort and insane mood swings, because at the end of it, we got to have you!"

Harry thought back to those nine incredible months. So many ups and downs, from the euphoric excitement of getting ready for their baby to the misery of Ruth's physical and emotional agony. From Catherine staying for two weeks over Christmas to the loss of Ruth's beloved cat, Fidget. They had started building their life after Five when they'd gotten married and moved to their new house, but the whole of the year 2010 had been preparing for the birth of their child and it had been the most exciting and life-changing time of Harry's whole life. Well, in a personal regard at least. It was the most rewarding thing he'd ever done, become Penny's father. It just took him so bloody long to get there.


	72. Chapter 72

_Winter 2011_

Harry had barely slept that night. Ruth had tossed and turned and moaned in discomfort for hours and hours. That was nothing new in recent weeks. She was nine months pregnant and the baby was due any day. The false labor had given her a scare just after New Year's, but they had since learned the difference. She was constantly in pain and constantly exhausted, and Harry wished more than anything that he could help. Ruth had read that sex can induce labor, but despite Harry's offer to assist, she had passed the point of feeling any sexual desire whatsoever. She was miserable and did not want him to even look at her, let alone touch her. And so Harry had just remained nearby and attentive as he could be without annoying her too much. More often than not, his attempts on that front had failed.

At seven in the morning, before the sun had even risen, Ruth rolled herself out of bed. It took her far too much time to be able to sit up and stretch her aching back and then stand and waddle herself to the bathroom. She grumbled under her breath the whole way. Harry remained in bed with his eyes closed, hoping to maybe get a little bit of sleep while his pregnant wife was out of the room. Perhaps that was an unkind thought, but the exhaustion had made him irritable.

"Oh shit, Harry!" Ruth shouted.

Harry swore to himself and got out of bed. So much for getting any more sleep. "What is it, Ruth?" he asked, following her down the hall.

"Careful, I…"

Her warning came too late as Harry slipped on the hardwood floor, barely able to stabilize himself against the wall.

"My water's broke."

Stepping in amniotic fluid was not something Harry Pearce had ever anticipated in his life, but at that moment, his entire mood shifted. "Oh my god, the baby's coming," he realized.

Ruth even laughed at that. "Yes, she is. So I think we should get dressed and go to the hospital. And let me have your phone so I can use that stopwatch app to time the contractions."

Harry first went to the bathroom to wash his bare foot. He and Ruth then got all their things together for their trip to the hospital. She clutched his phone in her hand, and he was mildly concerned that she might break it with the force of her grip during the first few contractions. After all, those new iPhones were quite thinly made. But she focused on breathing through the pain and noticing how long each one was and how far apart they were coming.

She grew concerned as they piled into the car and Harry drove as quickly but as safely as he could manage. Their manor home may have been perfect with its beach and its forest, but it was quite far from civilization.

"They're coming too quickly, I think," Ruth said worriedly. "I must have been in labor through the night and it was gravity from getting up that made my waters break like that."

"We're nearly there," he replied, trying to keep them both calm. "You're not going to give birth in the next fifteen minutes, so I think we'll be alright."

"Yes, but there's a window of labor when I can get an epidural, and if I'm dilated too far, I won't be able to. I'm over forty, Harry, the risks of natural childbirth are astronomical for women my age. And I don't want to have a C-section if it can be avoided. I thought…I hoped that with the epidural, I'll be able to push and I can give birth to her properly. I just don't want to…"

She was getting worked up, so Harry cut her off. "We won't know till we get there. Your worrying is not helping you or the baby. Just keep breathing and keep your mind calm, alright?"

"Easy for you to say, you're not pushing a watermelon out of your body," she snapped.

Harry let that one go. "Why don't you call Catherine, hmm? Tell her the news."

That thought pleased Ruth more than she could say. She was able to keep her mind off things by telling Catherine that her little sister was on her way. Catherine was absolutely delighted. She happened to have been in London that month, and she told Ruth she was going straight to the station to take the first train to Suffolk.

The hospital proved to be less of a reassurance than Harry had hoped. As soon as he parked the car and helped Ruth hobble inside, the nurses sprung into action. Ruth was put in a wheelchair, and people were shouting for the obstetrician. It was chaos. Harry just stood where he was, not wanting to get in the way. Ruth was being wheeled away into another room when she screamed his name in the middle of another contraction. After that, he did not let go of her hand for anything.

As Ruth had feared, she had dilated too far to be given an epidural. The doctor assured them, however, that there was no indication at the present that she wouldn't be able to have a perfectly textbook natural birth. That being said, Ruth was already close to exhaustion. She was sweaty from the exertion of every single one of those pain, and they were coming faster and faster now.

"Just breathe, Ruth," Harry murmured. He tried to soothe her as best he could, brushing her damp hair from her face.

"I bloody well am breathing, Harry," she replied. Her voice was strained as she scrunched her eyes closed, trying desperately to make the world go away.

"How can I help?"

"I don't know!" she screeched. The pain was excruciating and tears fell down her cheeks uncontrollably.

"I'll…I'll go get the nurse, shall I?"

Ruth grabbed his arm, pulling him back. "No, don't leave me, Harry!"

"I'll never leave you," he promised in a low, calming voice.

That contraction subsided and Ruth had a small reprieve from the labor pains. She looked up at him and saw tears shining in his eyes. He hated to see her in pain. She knew that. And she knew that this was the first of his children whose birth he was present for. The poor love had no idea what to do. But he was here, holding her hand, ready to welcome their baby into the world. And that's all that mattered. She inhaled and exhaled slowly. Breathe. Just breathe.

"Do you want me to call Malcolm now? He doesn't have too far to journey, and I know we'll want him here when the baby's born. And he can keep Catherine company, since you know she's going to be a nervous wreck in that waiting room by herself," Harry said.

Ruth gave a tired little laugh. "Yes, that's a good idea."

It was another two hours before the doctor informed Ruth that she was finally fully dilated and it was time to transfer to the delivery room. It terrified her to no end, seeing how she was already so tired and she hadn't even started pushing yet. Malcolm had arrived, cancelling his plans and jumping in the car as soon as he'd gotten Harry's call. Catherine was already waiting and, just as Harry predicted, nervously harassing everyone around her.

But finally, at just past four o'clock in the afternoon on January twenty-forth, Harry cut the umbilical cord and a squalling baby girl was put in her mother's arms for the first time. Both Harry and Ruth were crying with joy and awe. "I guess tears are a family trait," he remarked.

"Hello, Penelope!" Ruth greeted. "Oh look how wonderful you are!" She turned to her husband, holding them both in his embrace. "So what's her full name?"

Harry grinned. "Well I think she should be named for the best woman I've ever known."

"Oh?"

He brushed his finger against his daughter's pink cheek as she began to settle down and stop crying. "Happy birthday, Penelope Ruth Pearce."

"Harry!" Ruth scolded. "You can't name a baby after her mother!"

"Why not? Sons are named after their fathers all the time. And you're much more worthy of being a namesake than anyone else in the world."

She sighed. "Alright, I won't stop you. Only because I agreed to let you choose her middle name and I'm just too happy to argue."

Harry beamed as he kissed his wife and his baby daughter.

The nurses took Penelope to get her cleaned off and weighed and measured. She was a shockingly big baby, given that neither of her parents were very tall. Sixty-one centimeters long and four thousand and two grams. No wonder Ruth's labor had been so intense. But she was healthy as could be. She had wispy blonde hair on her head to match her father and gray-blue eyes just her mother, and she was the most perfect thing they had ever seen.

It was time to bring in the visitors once Ruth and Penelope were transferred to their private room. Catherine was over the moon to meet the new addition to the family.

"I always wanted a sister. I remember, I was so angry when Graham was born. I wanted another girl so badly," she said.

"And now you've got one," Harry said. "I hope you'll be able to visit her often so she can have a good relationship with her big sister."

Catherine kissed Penny's little head. "Just try and stop me!"

The ward only allowed one visitor at a time, so they had to tear the baby away from Catherine so they could let Malcolm come in. He was extremely wary of the whole thing, making Harry rather sure that his old friend had not spent any time whatsoever with a newborn. Though, to be fair, Harry himself hadn't spent any time around a newborn either.

"Malcolm, I know this is something we should have done sooner," Ruth said nervously after he'd congratulated the new parents.

He frowned, concerned for what could possibly be making his dear friend even the slightest bit unhappy now.

Harry came to his wife's aid. "We were hoping you'd agree to be Penny's godfather."

A wide grin spread over Malcolm's face. "Did you really want me? Or did someone else decline?"

"No, you were our first and only choice," Harry assured him with a small laugh.

"Our daughter couldn't ask for anyone better," Ruth added, smiling kindly. "Would you like to hold her?"

Malcolm sputtered awkwardly for a moment. "Oh I…I couldn't possibly…"

"She won't bite. You won't drop her. Here, like this," Harry instructed, taking the baby out of her mother's arms and handing her to Malcolm.

"My god, she's beautiful," he gushed.

Harry and Ruth just smiled. He sat on the edge of the hospital bed beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders and kissing her hair gently. "You were right, he's the perfect choice," Harry whispered.

Ruth nodded. The elation of meeting her daughter at long last was starting to dissipate, leaving her beyond tired. She wasn't sure she could even speak anymore.

A nurse came in and saved her. "It's time for baby's first supper, so I'll have to ask everyone to leave. And as soon as we go over the feeding, I think everyone could use a rest."

Malcolm said he'd come by in the morning to visit. He was going to give Catherine a ride to a hotel so they could both stay somewhere close by. Harry asked Ruth if she wanted him to go, but she insisted he stay if he wanted to. He very much did. And he watched little Penny have her first meal and saw the look of pure bliss cross Ruth's face.

Harry Pearce had never been so happy in his entire life than he was in that moment.


	73. Chapter 73

_Early Spring 2011_

Harry tried not to compare his first wife with his second. No good could come of it, from thinking of how much better this marriage was than the last. He had no real hard feelings against Jane, only the lingering guilt over how badly he'd treated her which caused him to avoid everything about her—even thinking about her—like the plague. And he loved Ruth so much _more_ than he'd loved Jane. Which was totally unfair. He'd married Jane and loved her and they'd started a family together when they were both young and didn't know any better. But they'd both grown up and grown apart, and he began avoiding her in favor of his work and she'd begun withdrawing from him in her bouts of depression and anger. The infidelity—the ones she knew about, anyway—had been the straw that broke the camel's back. Their marriage had died long before that. Possibly before Graham was even conceived, if Harry was honest about it.

But that was neither here nor there, of course. He and Ruth had been married for just over three years, now. And they had the most miraculous baby girl to light up their lives. They were happy. He knew they were happy. But having a baby at their ages was perhaps not what they'd expected. It brought them more joy and love than they could express, but _Christ_ it was hard work.

Ruth was an absolutely incredible mother. She'd spent all those months reading all the baby books she could find. And she had an innate nurturing sense to her that Harry had always known would translate into a maternal instinct. He had been a little worried about himself, not having had much experience with babies. Never mind that he'd been a father twice over. He hadn't actually done much. Hadn't been around for the important day to day things. And Jane hadn't trusted him to do much, anyway.

Penny, bless her, was beautiful and smart and healthy and quite possibly the most miserable baby in all the world. She cried constantly. She was uncooperative at feedings. She seemed to shun sleep like it was her religion. She had these tiny baby fingernails that she constantly dug into her parents' faces. She wiggled all the time and seemed to hate being swaddled and could not be counted on for anything. The first two months of her life had been the most joyous nightmare. Ruth and Harry wouldn't have traded her for anything, but they should have known that their DNA might combine to make a tiny little monster.

Both Harry and Ruth were staying home—him retired and her on maternity leave—and doing their best to share the parenting labor. But Ruth was the only one who could feed her, which left her housebound more often than not. Harry, therefore, was the one who got to escape the crying and the dirty nappies to go do the shopping.

As he drove home after that particular trip to the market, Harry tried to remember if Jane had ever had trouble coping the way Ruth seemed to. Ruth would not admit it, of course, but it was plain to see that she was getting a little too exhausted from lack of sleep and growing despondent because of it. Jane had gotten like that, but not till much later. That had been the depression, Harry knew. If he recalled correctly, she'd never been happier than when they'd had a newborn in the house. Maybe that's what her genes had given Catherine and Graham, that easiness about them. Ruth had always been a stubborn mule—as had Harry himself—so Penny had no chance in being easygoing, it seemed.

Penelope was crying loudly in her pram when Harry came home. He hung up his coat and put down the groceries and sighed as he made his way over to her. "Penny, that's not very attractive sound."

Ruth appeared around the corner, her face drawn and her eyes flashing dangerously. "And a girl exists only to be attractive, is that it?"

Harry struggled not to roll his eyes, trying to resist in her bickering. "Ruth, why's she crying in the pram?"

"She's tired and she refuses to fall asleep. And honestly, if she doesn't let me get some rest soon, I might start making some rather unattractive sounds too."

He crossed the foyer to fold her in his arms. "I'll still love you even if you are unattractive."

"Did you just call me unattractive?"

"Oh shut up, Ruth." He kissed her soundly, hoping to distract her. But Ruth did not fully respond to the kiss. Harry pulled back and saw that she looked like she was about to burst into tears. Her eyes were getting watery and her lower lip trembled. But rather than allow the tears to fall, Harry pressed another quick kiss to her lips and murmured, "Go get into bed and get some rest. I'll take care of everything down here."

Unable to do much else, she sighed weakly and trudged up the stairs to the bedroom. As soon as Harry heard the door close behind her, he gave a satisfied nod and got to work.

He went right to the pram and leaned in to speak to the baby. "Alright, let's get you taken care of, hmm? How about that? Do you want to have a bath and a nap with your ancient father?" he cooed to the wailing baby in his arms. Both he and Ruth had been run absolutely ragged by Penny's constant colic, so a nap was easily achieved by all members of the Pearce family. Other than right after a feeding, Ruth had little to no luck getting Penny to fall asleep. But Harry had a way with her that seemed to cure any ailment. It made his heart soar that his baby daughter seemed to like him so much. Though he ached to see Ruth so distressed.

Harry grabbed the groceries and carried them into the kitchen while pushing the pram. He quickly put the perishables in the fridge before turning his attention back to Penny. He put the little basin in the kitchen sink and filled it halfway with warm water. He undressed the baby and gently put her in. He made faces and spoke in a melodic tone, and before he knew it, she'd finally stopped crying.

"There, you see? There's nothing a nice bath can't fix. I should remind your mother of that. Though she won't take a bath with me anymore since it's too hard to jump up and come see to you if somethings wrong. She's got a fair point, but I think she could use some relaxation. What do you think, Penny?"

She splashed the water with her tiny hands, getting Harry's shirt all wet. He just laughed, amused beyond belief by this lovely little being he and Ruth had made. What a shining miracle she was, Penelope Ruth Pearce.

When the baby was all clean, Harry dried her with the fluffy pink towel that Ruth hated so much. But it was a gift from the Home Secretary, so they couldn't very well refuse it. That had been another source of contention between them, actually. Harry had been so delighted by the birth of their daughter that he'd put an announcement in the newspaper. Gifts and well-wishes poured in from everywhere. Ruth had nearly killed him, accusing him of putting their family in danger by publicly telling the whole bloody world that they had a baby. But Harry obviously had made provisions for that. He and Malcolm had already hidden any and every evidence of where they lived and had increased the security of Ruth's records at the school where she worked. Gifts and letters for the baby were delivered to a postal box in Ipswich that Harry had visited every few days to empty. Everything was fine, and the thought that Ruth doubted his dedication to their safety and security had created quite a row indeed. Their shouting had even drowned out Penny's crying. They had since come to an understanding and Harry had retracted the announcement within three weeks of it being printed, and Malcolm erased all evidence of it from the newspaper archive.

Harry put the clean and dry baby in a fresh nappy and swaddled her in the frog blanket Catherine had given her little sister in honor of her birth. "Feeling better, sweetheart?" he asked, pressing a soft kiss to her little cheek. Penny just gurgled in response.

Harry carried her over to the sofa and laid down, resting her in the crook of his arm. He started to tell her a story, one about a princess and a dragon Catherine had enjoyed when she was small, but Penny seemed to want none of it. She struggled against her blanket, as she usually did. Harry sighed and unwrapped her and undid half the buttons of his shirt so she could rest on top of his bare chest. Skin to skin contact seemed to calm her down. And sure enough, she settled to sleep before Harry could finish telling her how the dragon and princess became friends. He gently touched her wispy curls, so like his own, in awe of her once again. It wasn't long before Harry fell asleep with his daughter napping on top of him.

Ruth wasn't sure how long she'd slept, but she awoke feeling better rested than she had since before she'd been pregnant. The house was quiet, which was quite the feat. She put on her dressing gown—she'd been too exhausted to do anything more than strip off all her clothes and fall into bed earlier—and went downstairs in search of her little family.

She found Harry asleep on the sofa with Penelope on his chest. Ruth nearly began to weep, such was the beauty of the scene and the overwhelming love that coursed through her.

As gently as she could, Ruth picked up the baby and swaddled her again before putting her little sleeping form in the baby carrier beside the end table. Miraculously, she stayed asleep and quiet. Once Penelope was settled, Ruth untied her dressing gown and climbed on top of Harry so her cheek settled on his shoulder and her bare chest could press against his. She pressed a small kiss to his neck before closing her eyes.

Harry started to come to when he felt movement on the sofa. The perfect smell of Ruth filled his senses. But having her on top of him like this, while intimate and lovely, was making it a bit difficult for him to breathe. "Darling, you're squashing me," he chuckled quietly, shifting a bit so that they would lie side by side.

Ruth's heart, so light and bright just mere moments before, plummeted into her stomach. "Sorry," she mumbled, turning herself away from him.

But Harry grabbed her and held her close. "No, I want you near me, I just can't have you on top of me," he explained.

"You used to like it when I would lie on top of you like that before I got old and fat, so I suppose those days are behind us now," she snapped.

"You're not old and certainly not fat, Ruth, what are you talking about?"

"Never mind. You were probably going to get bored of me before long anyway. This way, at least we're spared of the embarrassment of it all," she grumbled.

Harry was extremely confused and getting rather worried with all that talk of hers. "I won't ever get bored of you. You're my wife," he answered, hoping to reassure her against some concerns that he didn't understand.

"You got bored of your last wife. How many other women did you sleep with while you were married? And how quickly did you get bored of them? I know a bit about your history, Harry. I'm not beautiful like those women. I never have been. And I'm older, now. And my body has been completely massacred by Penelope. And I honestly won't blame you if you never want me ever again!"

He was quiet for a moment, collecting his thoughts, desperately trying not to say the wrong thing. But then he sighed and pulled her closer to him, pressing a kiss to her hair. "I think the hormones are making you stupid. Because I could never get bored of you in any way. I was young and foolish and selfish back then. And now I'm old and foolish, but I hope not as selfish. You are the only woman I'm ever going to want for the rest of my life."

"You don't know that," she protested.

"Yes, actually, I do. I've known for a very long time, now. I would not have risked life and limb for a woman I did not want to spend the rest of my life with. I would not have retired for a woman I did not want to spend the rest of my life with. I would not have married a woman I did not want to spend the rest of my life with, and I certainly would not have spent the better part of a year trying every which way to have a baby with a woman I did not want to spend the rest of my life with. And as for the sex part of it all, I can't tell you how much I miss it, Ruth. But we're exhausted and you gave birth seven weeks ago, and your doctor told us to wait at least ten," he explained.

"But after everything you've done, aren't I just a bit…boring?"

It took everything in him not to just laugh at her. "Do you remember our honeymoon? I don't think I could get bored of a woman who does things like that. Or how about when we were trying to get pregnant? We had a bloody schedule and I still didn't get bored. If you really are worried about it, we can try a bit of experimenting, but I promise you, I don't need it. I just need you, Ruth."

His words started to sink in, and Ruth felt tears prick her eyes. It had to be the hormones and sleep deprivation; she'd never been weepy before, even if she did used to be quite insecure. "I'm sorry I'm fat," she said rather pathetically, not really having much else to say.

Harry did chuckle at that. He caught her lips and kissed her softly. "I don't care if you're big as a house. As soon as we get the all-clear, I'm going to worship every inch of your body and learn every possible way to make you come and we can see if I can break my record."

Her eyes widened at that. "You've got a record?"

He hummed at the happy memory, kissing her a bit more sensuously. "Mmm, yes, that night in Paris after we had dinner at the Eiffel Tower." He would never forget a moment of that night as long as he lived. They'd gotten started at dinner, her foot slipping out of her shoe under the table and, thankfully hidden by the tablecloth, she'd teased him through his trousers with her toes. After that, Harry had left a few lovebites on her neck from his attentions to her in the taxi. And once they got back to the suite in their hotel, he'd showered her with every single weapon in his arsenal to a grand total of, if he'd counted correctly, six orgasms.

Ruth remembered just as well as he did and whimpered quietly at the memory. "Oh…yes, that." She swallowed hard and shifted where she lay. "God, do we really have to wait three more weeks?!"

"Yes, because I don't want to hurt you or interrupt your healing. But I promise, Ruth, I'm just as attracted to you now as I've ever been. Because I'm in love with every bit of you, and I intend to make love to you as often as we can until the day I die."

Seemingly satisfied, Ruth gave a happier sigh and snuggled against him, pressing small kisses to his neck and chest, wherever she could reach. "I'm really glad you're my husband," she murmured.

Harry smiled. "I'm really glad you're my wife."

On the other end of the sofa, Penny started to stir. The crying interrupted the romance brewing between her parents, which was probably for the best, given that they'd still have to abstain for three more weeks. Harry and Ruth sat up and put themselves back together before Harry collected the baby, kissed her pink face, and gave her to Ruth for feeding time.

The three of them snuggled on the sofa as quiet overtook the house once more with Penny drinking her supper and Ruth resting her head on Harry's shoulder, and Harry with his arm around his girls.


	74. Chapter 74

_Mid-Winter 2011_

Ruth moved faster and faster, riding Harry with everything she had. Her head was thrown back, her hands caressing her breasts, his fingers digging into her hips as he guided her on top of him. They were faintly aware of the squeaking of the mattress and the thumping of the antique headboard against the wall. Ruth was gasping and moaning as she got closer and closer to finishing. Harry growled and groaned.

A loud cry cut through the cold morning air to shatter the moment. "Oh shit!" Ruth swore. She did not hesitate in climbing off her husband and grabbing her dressing gown as she stumbled through the bedroom.

Harry was left lying in bed growing cold from where his wife's hot, sweaty body had just been covering him. His cock was weeping with want of her, but the reality of the situation was robbing him of his arousal as he tried to catch his breath.

It took a moment or two for him to feel decent enough to pull on his shorts and his bathrobe and wander down the hall. He found Ruth in the nursery, moving gently in the rocking chair as she fed Penny her breakfast.

"I suppose this is parenthood, is it? I didn't think Christmas would be all about her before she would understand what it was," he grumbled.

Ruth chuckled at him. "Don't be grumpy. We woke her up. I think we'll have to either be quieter or have sex somewhere else until she's a better sleeper. But it's not her fault she's hungry."

"I'm hungry," he pouted.

"You're hungry for something other than breakfast," she replied with a teasing smile.

"My daughter and I are both hungry for you, but obviously in very different ways. Hang on, what do you mean 'have sex somewhere else'?"

"I mean downstairs somewhere so we don't wake her up. Because I don't know about you, but I don't really fancy trying to be quiet when we're enjoying ourselves." Despite her rather blasé attitude, Ruth was blushing.

Harry grinned suggestively. "Let me know where and when, and I'll to my best to rise to the occasion, darling."

Ruth just rolled her eyes at him before looking down at the baby feeding on her breast. "Not much longer now, Penelope," she murmured. "You've nearly drank me dry. So as soon as your birthday rolls around, we're going to get used to some lovely other food. How does that sound, little love?"

Despite the sexual frustration still lingering in his groin, Harry had to smile. Ruth was so wonderful with Penny. He'd known she'd be an incredible mother, and she was. They'd had a rough go for a few months and the baby did seem to prefer her father, but Ruth was absolutely wonderful. Harry could not help but marvel at her. The way she held Penny, fed her, spoke to her, all of it.

As Harry watched, Ruth continued to speak to their daughter. "Your daddy likes to watch. It's what he's always been best at. Watching and saving the day. He always saves the day, even when it's not to do with nuclear bomb threats and just making sure we've got Christmas pudding. But he always knows just what to do because he's so good at watching. And he's watching us right now because he loves us so very much."

He chuckled. "I do love you."

She looked up and smiled. "Yes, I know. And we love you. Don't we, Penelope? We love Sir Harry, don't we, little love?"

"You always call her that," Harry realized.

"What?"

"Little love."

Ruth shifted the baby to burp her on the flannel Ruth had put over her shoulder. "That's because you're my love and she's my little love. And that's the only nickname I'll ever have for her."

They'd had the conversation a few times over the last months regarding what to call their daughter. Ruth insisted that she only call her by her given name, Penelope. Harry pointed out that it was Ruth who had suggested calling her Penny to begin with, but it seemed there was no swaying her. Stubborn mule, through and through.

"Bloody hell!" Ruth exclaimed.

Penny, it seemed, had turned her head just enough to spit up into Ruth's hair. Harry tried not to laugh, but he'd been host to all kinds of bodily fluids from their precious little girl. After all, Ruth had gone back to teaching this past term, leaving Harry as stay-at-home dad to feed her and bathe her and nap with her until after school.

"Here, give her to me. You go wash up and meet us downstairs," Harry said, coming over to take the baby.

Ruth sighed heavily and handed Penny over before hauling herself out of the chair. She was not as bone-tired all the time as she'd been before, but she was forty-one and her body was not in the condition it should have been in.

Before she could go, however, Harry caught her arm with his free hand. "Hang on."

"Hmm?" She turned back to face him.

He pressed a quick kiss to her lovely bow lips. "Happy Christmas, Ruth."

Despite the vomit in her hair, Ruth smiled. "Happy Christmas, Harry," she replied, kissing him once more.

Harry left her to it and brought Penny downstairs with him. Just as he did every day, Harry had a rather one-sided conversation with his daughter to start the day. "Let's make breakfast for Mummy, shall we? It's Christmas, so that means something special. And it's your first Christmas, Penny, so we've got to do something extra nice. Not that you can eat it yet, but the smells might be nice for you."

He continued to think aloud and including Penny in the decisions. Ruth had told him that one of the baby books said to talk as much as possible to an infant and expose her to new things so that she can grow and learn. And so that's exactly what he did. Whether or not it did anything to help advance her development, he'd never know. But it was incredibly nice to have someone join him in all his daily tasks.

By the time Ruth had showered and washed her hair and dressed for the day, Harry had a full English waiting on the table. Penny was in her cot beside them so they could keep an eye on her while they ate.

"You know, this might be the only quiet Christmas we'll ever have," Ruth noted. "Next year, she'll probably wake us up at first light so we can all come downstairs and see what Father Christmas brought for her."

"I will not dress up as Father Christmas," Harry responded in alarm.

"I didn't say you would," Ruth replied. "But you're sure you wouldn't want to?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm fat enough as it is, Ruth. Let's not add a white beard and red fur jacket to the mix, alright?"

"You're not fat, Harry. Though if you're worried about it, perhaps take Penny on more walks when the weather gets better."

He could tell from her expression that she was teasing him, but he didn't quite like it anyway.

Sensing the way he was pouting, Ruth gave him a little kick under the table. "If you were fat, I wouldn't be able to shag you on the sofa like I plan to after our Christmas angel goes down for her nap this afternoon."

That cheered him right up.

The little family gathered on the floor by the Christmas tree to open their gifts after breakfast. Most of the presents were for Penny, which Ruth opened while Harry held her. There was a stuffed bear from Malcolm. A picture book in Arabic from Catherine. A set of blocks from Jo. And, surprisingly, an adorable frilly dress from Ros.

Ruth was absolutely touched by the way their friends remembered them, even though that old life was so far away now. But their past bound them together forever, and having a baby to dote on seemed to keep people very invested in Sir Harry and Lady Pearce. Still, she was glad that they could spend this day, their first Christmas as a family, just the three of them. They were having a small party on Boxing Day for Penny to see her godfather and her sister. Ruth would have to remember to put Penny in that sweet dress and take a picture to send to Ros. Maybe she would put it in a frame in her office. Distantly, Ruth wondered if the wall was still painted red or if Ros had ordered something else. Something told her it would still be just as it was when it had been Harry's. Ros was surprisingly sentimental that way.

While Ruth was lost in thought and not focusing, Penny started to get quite annoyed at being ignored by her mother. "Muh!" she said.

Both Ruth and Harry snapped to attention. They glanced at each other and then down to the baby.

Penny reached her little baby hands out towards Ruth. "Mumma!" she cried.

Ruth gasped. "Oh my god, Harry, did she…?"

"Christ, I think she did!"

Penny was undeterred, her pudgy face scrunching up in frustration. "Mumma!" she shrieked again.

"Oh come here to me, lovie!" Ruth scooped her daughter up in her arms. "Were you calling for me, Penelope? Were you calling for your mummy?" she cooed.

Penny was immediately all smiles. "Mumma!"

Harry watched and felt tears prick his eyes. He'd never thought he'd be so sentimental, but it wasn't very day one got to see their child say her first word. And it was 'mumma.' Poor Ruth had been so concerned that Penny preferred Harry to her. It was a plight of many working mothers, particularly when the father stayed home, as was starting to become somewhat common. But Penny's first word had not been 'dada,' as Harry had secretly hoped it might have been. No, it was 'mumma.' And it was the greatest Christmas gift they could have ever imagined.


	75. Chapter 75

"My first word was 'mumma'?" Penny asked, turning to her mother.

"It was. We were quite surprised. But it really didn't take you long before you were speaking in full sentences. Then we couldn't stop you talking," Ruth teased.

"For the first year or so, it was just in English," Harry added.

Penny grinned with pride. "Ça c'est parce-que je suis si intelligente!"

Harry chuckled. "Yes, you're very smart, sweetheart. Just like your mother."

Ruth was so proud of their daughter, she could burst. It had started out rather innocently. She'd been reading Voltaire in French and she started reading it aloud to Penelope, who must have been about eighteen months old at the time. And that clever little girl started parroting the words back. Her pronunciation was remarkable. And she started understanding so much so quickly. Ruth had begun with only French, since France was just over the channel and speaking the language made sense. But from there, they'd gotten rather creative. Harry had tried to insist that Ruth only teach Penny languages he understood, but once he decided that their daughter had no business speaking Russian—old habits die hard, obviously—they ran out of options quickly.

Now that she was eight years old, Penny was practically fluent in French, Italian, Arabic, Greek, Hebrew, and Mandarin. All of that was due to Ruth, though Catherine happily helped her little sister practice Hebrew, Arabic, and French. Harry could converse with her in French, Italian, and Hebrew, and he could understand bits and pieces of Arabic, but that's where it ended for him. The Pearce home was multi-lingual to the point of madness, but Harry loved it. His little girl had inherited her mother's gifts for language and quick thinking and making connections. It was marvelous to watch.

As she watched her daughter and thought about all she'd learned and absorbed in her short life so far, Ruth couldn't help but wish her own father could be alive for this. She had been just slightly older than Penelope when her father died, and she'd been learning French at the time. Dr. Evershed had spoken French to her when she was little. Perhaps that was subconsciously why she had started Penelope with French.

But whatever the reason, Ruth was proud of her girl, for the skills she possessed and the way she genuinely seemed to enjoy learning and developing those talents. After all, Ruth would have hated herself if she became the sort of mother who forced a child to learn lessons during the summertime instead of playing outside. But after the introduction to French, the other languages had been Penny's idea. She asked a lot of questions, and her favorite quickly became "How else?" Most children incessantly ask why, and Penny did as well, but once she learned something, she immediately wanted to know other ways of it. She would learn a new word or phrase and then ask her mother how to say it in a different language. How else could she say it? How else could something work? It was a question that Ruth never tired of answering as best she could.

Of course, Ruth was not the only recipient of the "How else?" question. Harry might not have been as linguistically gifted as his wife or child, but he was not without his own talents. He had been the one to stay home with Penny as she was growing up, and he'd have her help him with his various chores around the house. He'd show her how to clean something or how to fix something, and she would want to know other methods. A very independent thinker, their Penny. She was terrible at following instructions because she wanted to be fully informed and make decisions for herself. Another way in which she took after her mother, as far as Harry could tell.

"Alright, so after you learned to speak, you probably remember most things, don't you?" Harry asked. The clock on the mantle said it was getting extremely late, and he needed to wrap up this tale.

"But what did you do while I was little?" Penny asked.

"Well you were there, lovie," Ruth reminded her.

"Yes, but I want to hear Daddy tell it," she insisted.

There she went again, that brilliant girl of his. Harry understood what she wanted. Yes, she had her own memories of that time, but they were clouded by her own perceptions. She wanted to know how her parents had understood and remembered that time from their own perspectives. Clever, clever girl.


	76. Chapter 76

_Spring 2012_

It had actually started the summer Ruth was pregnant with that television program. They hadn't watched it, as they were rather busy. Seemed as though they were the only people in the country who hadn't. And then the following year, with Ruth preparing for her return to teaching, they hadn't watched the second series either. Harry tried not to have the telly on all the time. He now spent enough time running after their fifteen-month-old baby. When she was not in danger of running into a wall or a sharp edge or climbing on something, he appreciated peace and quiet. Television was not something that interested him. Besides, being home all day in retirement, Harry had promised himself that he would not end up sitting on the sofa letting his mind and body get soft.

Well, as a father of a toddler, he was not in danger of that. Penny certainly kept him on his feet. He was exhausted all the bloody time. They would usually end up taking naps together, she wore him out so much.

But she now finally had a rather regular schedule. She did not need his constant attention. She liked to sit in her playpen and put toys in her mouth and carry on conversations with him as best she could. And Harry enjoyed having his little partner to share in his days. But with her gaining a little more self-sufficiency each day, Harry started noticing that he needed something to do. Yes, he did the cleaning and the cooking and such. But that wasn't anything very fun. It certainly didn't hold his interest. Books and newspapers could only be so interesting for so long. And Ruth was teaching till four each day during the week and she often had to spend time marking papers and exams and such. He needed something to do.

And so it was that he began to search for a hobby. In the better weather, he might try to go out to the garden and plant things. Might be nice to grow fresh vegetables and some lovely flowers. But at the time, the frost was still a bit too biting.

Harry then recalled that television program. Whatever it was called, with the women presenters, the blonde one and the one with glasses. And those judges, the steely-eyed bastard with the stupid goatee and that old woman with her colorful jackets. Those dozen people in a tent baking who the bloody hell knew what. It had caused such a national sensation that suddenly all the shops had those fancy stand mixers and new recipe books and suddenly different types of flour and sugar seemed to be important.

Never one to shy away from a challenge and with nothing better to do, Sir Harry Pearce started to teach himself how to bake. He did a lot of reading about it, having learned from his dear wife that foreknowledge informed experience. He bought all the things he thought he'd need, investing in quality equipment but starting out with cheaper ingredients until he felt more confident. He did all his research as best he could. And then he practiced.

Ruth came home from school each day feeling knackered yet rejuvenated by the incredible smells emanating from the kitchen. Harry's bakes were always a surprise, and there was a new thing to try every single day. The good ones she'd bring to school for the other teachers to ensure that they didn't keep to many sweets in the house.

The first thing Harry really mastered were hot cross buns. Very English and very delicious. He had even taught Penny the nursery rhyme while he made them. They quickly became a Monday tradition in the Pearce household with Harry beginning making the dough after cleaning up breakfast, playing with Penny while it the dough proved, and then piping the crosses and baking the buns just in time for Ruth to come home to Penny singing, "Hot cross buns, hot cross buns, one a penny, two a penny, hot cross buns!" Harry suspected she liked the buns for the song more than anything else since she got to sing her own name in the lyrics, but he was charmed by her enthusiasm regardless.

And as winter bled into spring, Harry's skill improved and his bakes started getting more ambitious. He seemed to have quite a knack for it, and he really enjoyed the precision and creativity of it, and he particularly liked having something to show for his efforts. He made savory biscuits and his own jammy dodgers. He made a Victoria sponge and a chocolate genoise covered in ganache. He perfected his watercrust pastry to make hand-raised meat pies. He made bakewell tarte and jaffa cake better than you could buy in the shops. And he even managed to get a marvelous rye bread that got baked on Tuesdays and then used for sandwiches and toast the rest of the week.

It was that rye bread that Ruth loved more than anything else. She had discovered that fact when she was off of school for the Easter holidays and got to stay home and watch Harry bake each day. He had developed enough skill at that point that he let Ruth and Penny help him. Ruth asked a lot of questions and Penny was more interested in getting covered in flour than anything else. But it was quite a lot of fun. And it was just fun until Harry took the dough out of the bowl and began to knead it.

"Now, I've tried a few different methods, but I think this works best for me. I stretch it with my fingers like this and roll it with the palm of my hand like this, see?" Harry explained, demonstrating to his wife.

"Mhmm," she hummed, barely listening to him. Her eyes were glued to the motion of his hands. His strong, thick hands. Kneading dough. Moving powerfully as they created. Those hands that had killed men and cradled their baby. Hands that Ruth could feel ghosting over her body as she watched him knead that dough.

"Now, we break off a bit for Penny," Harry continued, unaware of the way Ruth's eyes had glazed over a bit and how her skin was starting to flush.

"Thanks, Daddy," Penny said, taking the ball of tough from her father and sitting on the floor amidst the mess of flour.

That succeeded in distracting Ruth for the moment. "Hang on, you can't give her that!"

Harry chuckled. "No, she knows not to eat it. Don't you, sweet girl?"

Penny just looked up at her parents and nodded, smiling brightly as she played with her little ball of dough.

"This is our Tuesday routine, Ruth," he explained. "Penny knows that she doesn't get to put anything in her mouth unless I say so, especially uncooked dough. And she likes to squish it and stretch it and cover it in flour, and when she's overworked it into crumbs, we throw it out and clean everything up."

"Don't you worry about Mopsy with all this on the floor?"

"Penny stepped on her tail once and now she doesn't come in here while we're baking," Harry said.

Ruth sighed. That poor cat. She'd gone from a very happy life in London with Fidget to making friends with Scarlett when she'd lived at Harry's to this big house in Suffolk all to herself until a squalling baby had overtaken her domain. And now that they'd lost Fidget, Ruth wasn't sure how long Mopsy would last. Hopefully a few more years. They couldn't very well bring home a new pet while Penelope was still so little, but a house did not feel like home to Ruth without at least one cat.

Harry reformed the dough after taking a bit out for Penny and kneaded it just a bit more. Ruth certainly took notice.

"Right, now we leave it to prove and I do the cleaning," Harry told her.

"I think you should take Penny upstairs for a bit," Ruth suggested.

"Why? She's fine down here."

Ruth bit her lip, trying not to be too obvious in front of their daughter. She was an observant little thing. So since Harry wasn't being cooperative, she turned and knelt down in front of the baby. "Penelope, can you go upstairs for a little while?"

The child frowned. "Why?"

"Mummy and Daddy need to do some grown up things for a little while. Let's go up to your room and you can play with your bear from Uncle Malcolm, alright?" Ruth offered.

Penny was very suspicious of this, but she agreed. She left her ball of dough downstairs, knowing she wasn't allowed to take it out of the kitchen. Mummy picked her up and took her up to her room, going somewhat fast.

When Ruth had closed the door to the nursery and returned to the kitchen, Harry was looking at her with a knowing glint in his eye. He'd figured out his wife's intentions. "So what's got you hot and bothered, hmm?" he asked.

Ruth swallowed hard. "The…the way you knead that dough."

Harry burst out laughing. "Are you telling me that watching me knead dough got you randy?!"

She pursed her lips. "I wouldn't put it in quite those terms, but yes."

He crossed over and put his hands—still covered in flour—on her hips. "And what about the way I knead dough suddenly made you need to put our daughter out of earshot?"

"You've got marvelous hands, Harry," she said. "Strong and thick and gorgeous. And there's just something about seeing you so domestic and covered in flour and using those gorgeous hands that I just…"

Harry did not let her finish. He kissed her hard, unable to resist any longer. Their love life had certainly slowed since the baby, what with Ruth working and Penny waking up if they were too exuberant in their bedroom. They found their moments wherever they could. On the sofa. In the shower. On the dining table. In the kitchen. And if Ruth got turned on when he was baking, he certainly wasn't going to refuse her.

They undressed each other quickly, letting their clothes fall onto the messy floor. Harry lifted Ruth up onto the counter—he'd wash and sanitize it later. Her bum was covered in flour but she did not care. In fact, she sort of liked it. Harry's hands were kneading the flesh on her thighs and her hips and her breasts and kissing and nipping everywhere he could reach. Ruth tried not to be too loud, since Penny was upstairs in her cot and behind only one closed door. But those hands of his were far too skilled for her to keep herself from gasping and moaning as he built her up and up before thrusting himself inside her.

Their furious coupling was quick and messy and ended up with Ruth biting down on his shoulder to keep from crying out when she came. Harry followed her over the edge and practically collapsed on top of her on the counter. They were breathing heavily and clutching each other for dear life.

In the end, they carried their clothes right to the hamper and then went up to their bathroom and shared a quick shower. There was plenty of time while the dough was proving. Ruth went to collect Penny again while Harry got started on the cleaning, eliminating any evidence of what they'd been up to. The three of them ended up sitting on the sofa together for about an hour while Ruth read one of the Arabic storybooks from Catherine to Penny and taught her some more words. Harry was a bit exhausted and took a small nap before it was time to bake the bread.

Incidentally, rye bread remained a Tuesday tradition, but Harry started making French bread every Saturday. Because on Saturdays, Ruth was home and she could watch him to her heart's delight. And watch him she did. Penny was not yet old enough to question why she was sequestered in her bedroom after Daddy put the dough in the bowl to prove or why Mummy and Daddy had on different clothes when they came to get her again. Which was just as well.


	77. Chapter 77

_Summer 2013_

Harry carried their little girl up the stairs and tucked her into bed. Ruth followed behind and tried to keep it to herself that Penelope really needed a bath but they certainly weren't going to wake her.

They'd had a perfect summer day, the three of them. Ruth adored the summers, being off from school and getting to be with her family all day every day. And now that Penelope was two and a half, she was a proper little person. Bright and happy and talkative and utterly delightful in every way. She had a sense of imagination that she inherited from her mother along with her pale blue eyes. And she had a determination and willfulness she got from her father along with her nose and curly sand-blonde hair. And her parents absolutely adored her.

At the moment, their little girl was exhausted after a day in the sunshine. Ruth had gotten the idea to do a scavenger hunt. They had such an extensive property and the weather was lovely, so they may as well make use of it. She hid clues on pink cards in the garden and on the path to the beach and in the woods. Each one gave them an activity to do all together and led to the next card. It was all a lot of fun.

Harry, however, could have killed her. He wasn't getting any younger and already had a toddler to contend with and now his wife was making him run around skipping through the woods and finding rocks of a certain color on the beach and all sorts of nonsense. But it wasn't about what Harry wanted to do—which was to sit amongst the roses he'd planted in the garden with Penny on his lap and read a book—this was about having a fun day as a family. And they had had quite a lot of fun. Even if he did have a sore back now.

Penny had fallen right to sleep when they'd finished the last card, which was to take turns counting to ten in different languages while sitting on the stairs. Harry stopped at seven in Hebrew and gingerly picked her up.

"Someone's had a busy day," he murmured, kissing her soft baby cheek.

Ruth smiled, following him up to the nursery. "I know she's been a bundle of energy lately, so I thought this might be a nice way to tire her out. And maybe now you and I can open a bottle of wine and have a cuddle on the sofa before she wakes up for dinner."

He grinned in response. "That sounds utterly lovely." He held Penny with one arm and pulled her sheets back. They'd just gotten her a 'big girl bed' a month before. She had outgrown the cot and was very eager to have a proper bed of her own. So far, there hadn't been any falling accidents or getting up in the night to wander around the house.

As Harry drew the pale green curtains on the window, Ruth took Penny's shoes off her feet. Their daughter did not even stir. She slept peacefully as her mother kissed her cheek and her father tucked her into bed.

They stood there and watched her for a little while. Very rarely was she quiet and peaceful like this. Harry often felt like he could just sit and watch her for hours. She was the most beautiful little girl. Every time he looked at her, he saw bits of her heritage, proof that she was Penelope Ruth Pearce, equal parts of both her parents. The bow of her lips was just the same shape as Ruth, but that pouty lower lip, he knew, was all him. She had high cheekbones like Ruth, but a rounder face. Harry's mother had a round face like that. And sometimes when she was dreaming, she'd scrunch her face a little bit and she got the lines on her forehead that Harry recalled on his own father late in his life.

"I still can't believe it sometimes," Ruth whispered, resting her head against his shoulder. "That she's really ours."

"You read my mind," he replied, wrapping his arm around her.

She smiled slightly. "Yes, I know. You think very loudly sometimes."

"Well, you've always known me better than anyone else."

"Only because you let me, love," she answered. Ruth leaned up to kiss his jaw before settling in his embrace to continue to watch their daughter. "She's over two now," Ruth stated.

Harry hummed in agreement.

"Catherine and Graham are about three years apart, aren't they?"

"Yes, just over three years."

"If we want another, we should probably get started then."

Harry felt as though he'd been dunked in a bucket of ice water. "If…what?"

Ruth could feel the way he tensed up, but she was determined to keep the conversation light. "I didn't think I'd want another child. But I think I might. We've done quite well with this one. And don't you think Penelope would like a little brother or sister? There aren't any other children in the neighborhood for her to play with."

"No, Ruth," Harry said firmly.

She turned to look at him. "No, she wouldn't like a little brother or sister?"

He shook his head and clarified, "No more children. We can't have another baby."

A flash of disappointment flickered in her eyes. "Why not?"

Harry placed his hands on her arms, standing directly in front of her so he could try to find the words to explain something he'd never thought he'd need to say. "I wish more than anything that we could have a whole brood of children together. A whole cricket team of them. But we can't. I can't. Or, actually, I won't."

Her brow jumped up her forehead. "You won't?"

He knew what she was getting from that, that he was handing down a mighty decree as husband and father and head of the house. And in a way he was. But he needed to explain. "Darling, I am going to be sixty years old in just a few months. Even if you got pregnant tonight, I'd be over sixty by the time you gave birth. I'd be old and feeble before he or she was out of nappies. As it is, I think I'll be lucky to live till Penny goes off to university."

"What?!" Panic started to show in Ruth's face at that and in her voice.

Harry pulled her into his embrace and kissed her hair and held her tight. "I won't leave you with a child to raise on your own. I won't get old and feeble and in need of you to care for me while caring for our child. I won't do it, Ruth. And I need you to understand. I hate saying no to you, but I cannot say yes to this. Please understand," he pleaded.

Ruth pulled back to look up at him, her fingers still fisted in his shirt. Tears shone in her eyes. "I understand, Harry. I promise, I understand. I hadn't really thought about it like that, but obviously you have. And you're right. It wouldn't be fair to either of us or any Penelope or any other child for us to live like that. I don't ever want to think about you being old and feeble, but I'm not so much of a fool to think that you'll be robust and virile forever. And age will come for you much sooner than for me."

He nodded, sighing in slight relief. He cupped her face with his hand, brushing his thumb over the sharp rise of her cheekbone. "I think I've still got enough in me to keep us going for a long time to come, but a child's life is long. And I want to be there for as much of Penny's as I possibly can. I want to see her win a debate competition, I want to watch her graduate from Oxford, I want to walk her down the aisle at her wedding. But we know better than most that there are no guarantees in this world. And if I'm going to be there for Penny, I don't think I could manage with another little one underfoot. I just want to be happy with what we have."

"I am happy with what we have, Harry. It's everything I've ever dreamed of. And I love you and our daughter so much, I sometimes think I might burst with it. And that's enough. I promise, that's enough."

Harry pulled her back into a tight hug, holding her while she softly cried, trying to hold back tears of his own. He dipped his head down to kiss her, pouring every ounce of his love and passion and devotion into it.

When they pulled apart breathlessly, Ruth reached up to wipe the tears from his cheeks. "How about that wine and cuddle now, eh?" she suggested, forcing herself to smile and cheer up to salvage the day.

He caught her hand in his and kissed her palm. "That sounds perfect."


	78. Chapter 78

_Early Autumn 2014_

This was only the second visit she'd made, but it already felt strangely familiar. Harry never would have thought she belonged there with them, but, for these small stretches of time, she certainly did belong.

Ros Myers's first visit to the Pearce manor house had been about a week before and in the dead of night. Harry had come to the door wearing his dressing gown over a vest and trunks, but he was wide awake. A lifetime of training had not been dulled by a few years of retirement, thankfully. After all, Harry might not have been in the field fighting terrorists, but he had a family to protect.

That first time, Ros had not even come inside. She had only handed Harry an envelope and told him, "These are the instructions. If something should happen, the Home Secretary knows to be in touch with you about this. You can open it if you want, I don't care. But believe me when I tell you that you're the only one I trust with this."

Harry had looked at her strangely at that. He and Ros had been quite close those last few years, after Adam had been killed and Ros became his Section Chief. She had succeeded him as Head of Section D and was doing marvelously by all accounts. But other than a gift in the post for Penny's birthday, they had not heard a single word from her. They didn't even send her a Christmas card, as they had no address for her and certainly knew better than to send things to Thames House.

But Ros had offered no explanation. She had turned and gone back into the night. Harry had immediately opened the envelope and found in it the contact information for a church and a mortuary and filled-in order forms for a coffin and funeral and headstone and burial plot. Ros had given Harry everything he would need to take care of the eventuality of her death. Something bad was coming for Ros, and she'd done a good job planning the contingencies. But the fact that Harry was the one she trusted left a very bittersweet feeling in his heart.

He had woken Ruth—well, she'd already been awake, but they turned on the light and stayed up together—and shared with her what Ros had given him and the words she'd said.

Ruth, ever the strategist between them, had only one thing to say. "If the time comes, we'll be ready. But hopefully she'll be back and we can see her in a context that isn't an open casket."

"No, she doesn't want an open casket, see?" Harry replied, showing Ruth the box that Ros had marked on the form.

But sure enough, Ros had been back in contact a week later. "Sorry for the alarm. Things are all taken care of," she had told him over the phone.

"Does that mean you can come for a proper visit?" Harry asked in return.

Ros rarely smiled, but Harry could feel it from her. "How about lunch tomorrow?"

And that was how Ros Myers came to be at the Pearce home on a sunny September Sunday for lunch. Ruth was fixing up the meal while Harry and Ros sat out in the garden watching Penny play. Their little girl was not very used to strangers, particularly not in their home. Oh Harry and Ruth took her out places and traveled with her as much as they could, but their home was their sanctuary. The only people who ever visited were Uncle Malcolm and big sister Catherine. And now Auntie Ros. But Penny had warmed to Ros quite quickly. Perhaps she sensed the similarity to her father that the blonde spook possessed. Whatever it was, Penny began to have a marvelous time showing off.

"Flower!" Penny announced, carrying a dandelion over from the lawn to hand to their houseguest. "Fleur! Fiore! Hua!"

Ros took the flower and thanked the three-year-old, who toddled back to her solitary game in the grass. "Was she saying flower in other languages?"

"Yes, that was French, Italian, and Mandarin. She knows more, but those seem to be her favorites so far," Harry replied proudly. "She takes after her mother."

"So I can see. She's a lovely girl, Harry."

Harry beamed. "Yes, she's a pretty little thing." He heard a scoff of disapproval come from behind him where Ruth was setting the patio table for their lunch. He continued loudly for her to overhear, "Of course she's also brilliant and funny and sweet, but I never tire of telling Penny how pretty she is. You see, Ros, her mother wasn't told nearly enough that she was beautiful. And it's made her rather shy and insecure as a result. So much so, that she still blushes when husband tells her that she's beautiful. Now, there are many traits that I hope Penny inherits from Ruth, but that insecurity isn't one of them."

"I am not insecure!" Ruth countered with annoyance.

He turned to look at her and simply said, "You're very beautiful, and I wish you'd believe it."

At this point, Penny herself had grown interested in whatever her parents were discussing. She came back over to where Ros was sitting. To everyone's surprise, Ros picked her up and pulled the toddler into her lap. "Penelope, your mummy is very pretty. And so are you. And both of you are very smart. And I think your dad is quite lucky to have such lovely girls in his life. Luckier than he deserves, honestly," Ros added, throwing Harry a teasing smirk.

"Don't I know it," Harry agreed with a laugh.

"Oh stop it, the both of you!" Ruth chided. She came to pick up her daughter from Ros's lap. She was nearly too big for it, but Ruth would have rather broken her back than admit to not being able to carry her baby anymore. "Come along, Penelope. It's lunchtime, and you can come help me in the kitchen. You can come back and play with Ros later."

Soon thereafter, the three Pearces and Ros sat outside for their lunch of soup and salad. Ruth sat on the end to feed spoonfuls of soup to her. She could feed herself for the most part, but she was a bit unstable with liquids, so Ruth knew she'd need to help.

The conversation centered around Penny. Ros tested out some languages on her to see how much she knew. Penny had a tendency to look to her mother for confirmation before answering the way she knew how. Harry watched them all with immense pleasure. He may have gotten to spend each and every day with his daughter, teaching her and playing with her and disciplining her when needed, and they'd developed an extremely close bond because of it, but there was a special connection that Penny and Ruth shared that Harry knew he had no part in. Their minds were so similar in the way they absorbed and processed information, the way they both felt just the slightest bit nervous because of it. Harry could see that Penny was innately just the same as Ruth in that way, not wanting to parade around her abilities, needing the encouragement to fully exhibit all she was capable of. It was a humility that Harry had assumed Ruth had due to her shyness and being a sad little girl all alone at a boarding school after her father died. But Penny had it too. It could be that she was just doing as her mummy did, but Harry liked to think that his daughter would not inherit his foolish arrogance and instead remain humble and kind like her mother.

As lunch drew to an end and Penny was visibly drooping, Ruth started cleaning up the luncheon and took Penelope upstairs for her nap. Harry and Ros were left on their own.

"I've got your envelope to give back to you," he said.

Ros shook her head. "Keep it. Just because it wasn't needed last week doesn't mean it won't be needed next week. You know how it is, Harry."

"I do," he agreed. "There are some days when it feels like eons ago. And then there are moments when it feels like I haven't really left."

"Really?"

"Yes. I can't quite explain it. But if you ever retire, I think you'll know what I mean."

Ros gave a humorless chuckle at that. "I'll never retire. I'm going to go out in a fiery blaze from Thames House."

"I used to think the same for myself."

"Well, you found a reason to retire," she pointed out.

He nodded. "I did. And you might, as well."

"I don't think the family life is for me, Harry."

"And you think ten years ago it was for me? A lot can happen if you let it, Ros."

She eyed him curiously. "You know, if anyone ever asked me what you're doing in your retirement, I think I would have told them exactly this. And I would have been entirely sarcastic. But you fit here, don't you?"

He smiled at that. "Yes, I do."

Ros's eyes matched his in their soft happiness. "I'm really happy for you, Harry."

"Well, if you ever want to escape into the countryside and borrow a bit of happiness, you're always welcome here."

"Thank you. And you know, I sort of figured that might be the case."

"Oh?"

"Why do you think I gave you the envelope and no one else? No one I've ever met has understood me the way you do, Harry. Without you, I'd have never been able to be a Section Head. I'd have probably been fired from Six for getting burned out or falling in with terrorists under the foolishly optimistic guise of changing the world order. It's all thanks to you that I'm here."

"I think you've done it all yourself, Ros. But I'm glad to have had any small part in that. And for whatever it's worth, I don't think I could have ever been okay in retiring if I didn't know you would be taking my place. Anyone else, and I wouldn't have been able to let go. Not even for Ruth, though it pains me to say it. You proved yourself to me, Rosalind Myers, and I'll be forever grateful for all you did for me, in allowing me to feel confident in moving on and handing over the reins."

Ruth returned amidst a palpable silence. "Everything alright here?"

Ros stood up. "I was just telling Harry that I ought to be heading out. But I wanted to thank you for lunch. You've got the most wonderful child, and I'll be glad to continue to send her birthday gifts each January."

"It's been wonderful to see you, Ros. I do hope you'll come see us again when you can." Ruth tried not to look too surprised when Ros gave her a small hug and kissed both her cheeks.

"I will," Ros answered. "Thanks for everything."

"I'll walk you out," Harry offered, standing up to lead Ros back through the house.

The two did not speak again. They shook hands and Ros went out to her car and drove away. Harry watched the car fade into the distance and came to the sudden and very important realization that he had just received the final bit of closure he hadn't known he'd been waiting for. That life, that other life, was truly behind him now.


	79. Chapter 79

"Daddy, your life's been extraordinary," Penny marveled, using her new favorite word, which Harry still found absolutely adorable in her sweet little voice.

"Yes, I suppose it has," he replied.

It was a strange thing to think about for Harry. He had done quite a lot of extraordinary things, objectively speaking. He had foiled terrorist plots and saved the realm dozens of times over. He had been shot and stabbed and tortured and beaten and nearly killed more than he could count. Many books had been written about fictional characters with stories less exciting than the life that Harry Pearce had led. But he did not like to think of it that way. He usually did not like to think about it at all. For all the good he had done, for all the lives he had saved, he himself had not derived much personal happiness from it. Satisfaction, surely. The knowledge that he was part of something truly important. That the work his team did was absolutely vital to the proper functioning of the entire world. Still, that was someone else's concern now. Harry's concern was limited to the people in this room.

"But you know, I think my life's much more extraordinary now," he told Penny.

She scrunched her face in disbelief. "Why? All you do now is bake cakes and fall asleep in your chair.

Harry laughed, knowing his daughter was absolutely right. "But that other life of mine was very dark and full of death and betrayal and the very worst of humanity. And now that your mother and I have put all that behind us, my life is filled with joy and love. And I have this life because my Ruth loves me and took a brave chance on me, and now we have you, Penny, and you're more extraordinary than anything. But now it's time to go to bed, darling girl."

"No, Daddy, I don't want to go to bed! I want to hear what comes next!" she whined.

But Harry had already hauled himself up from his chair. It felt like an age he'd been sitting there, his muscles growing stiff as he told his tale to Ruth and Penny. He crossed to the sofa and pressed a kiss to his daughter's forehead. "You go to sleep, sweetheart, and tomorrow you'll know what comes next. Because that's how life works. You never know what tomorrow will bring. And that's where the story goes from here."

Ruth gently pushed Penny off her lap and took her hand to lead her upstairs. "Your dad is right. Off we go, little love." As they walked by, Ruth gave Harry a quick kiss and murmured, "That's my favorite story and I loved hearing you tell it. But there were some very lovely parts that weren't proper for little ears. Maybe later you can tell me all the missing bits."

Harry grinned and with a quiet growl, replied, "Maybe later we can reenact them."

She gave a dazzling smile to match his and pressed one more kiss to his lips before ushering Penny off to bed. Harry watched them climb the stairs with a smile and a deep sigh of contentment.


	80. Chapter 80

Harry was lightly dozing after making love to his wife that evening. They'd put Penny to bed and kissed her little cheeks and told her they loved her and then scurried off to their bedroom and tore each other's clothes off. It was all they could do, really, after the entire roller coaster of Harry telling the story of how they ended up here.

He'd never really thought about it all at once before. They'd started out as friends. Close friends from the start. He'd had a need to be close to her that he'd not actually ever examined before. Even before he knew he'd fallen in love with her, he'd cared for her. He wanted to be the one she came to when something was upsetting her. He wanted to be the one to hold her in his arms, to comfort her. And he wanted to go to her when he was lost and disheartened. She had always shown him the way, been the beaming light of goodness in his shadowy realm.

And as they grew closer as friends, as they relied more and more on one another, their hearts became inextricably linked. He'd found her to be unconventionally but alluringly beautiful from the first, but the desire he'd felt for her as the romance flickered between them had been nearly overwhelming at times. Still was. Their first dinner out together when he'd walked her home and taken her to bed. Their passionate revelations at Havensworth. The happy routine they'd fallen into before her exile. The desperate, aching need he'd felt for her all those months she was away. And then to have her back in his arms. He'd known then that he'd never let her go ever again. And he hadn't.

Now, they'd never be apart till his dying day. Harry hoped that it would be a long way off. He wanted so much to be with her, to love her and hold her in bed each night and kiss her each morning and sneak off for a shag in the kitchen or bathroom when they could manage it. He wanted to see their daughter grow into a young woman and help guide her through the horrific world that awaited her. To show her how to stand on her own to feet. To be, with Ruth, a model for what it was to love and trust another person. Penelope was their little miracle baby, and now that she'd just turned eight, she was learning and growing up each day. And Harry didn't want to miss a single moment.

In telling the story of his life, Harry had seen so starkly the differences in what he had now versus then. And he wouldn't trade it for anything. He'd had his time as a hero. He'd paid his dues to Queen and country. This retirement was his reward.

Oh they had their bad days to be sure. He and Ruth had quite spectacular fights on occasion. But never once did either of them doubt their love for each other. And other than that time after giving birth, they'd not gone more than about two weeks without very explicitly showing each other just how much.

Harry woke up in the darkness. His body was growing cold from the sweat cooling on his naked body. Ruth was sprawled beside him. They'd pushed the sheets down to their feet, and there was a bit of a chill to the air. He turned to gaze upon the perfect pale skin of his wife's bare back. The curve of her spine and the round rise of her glorious bum. She'd complained to him recently that her 'fat arse' was quite depressing to contemplate. He'd quite enthusiastically showed her how much he appreciated the few added inches that had added there over the years. Even now he had to stop himself from grabbing great handfuls of her.

Now was not the time for that, though. He needed to let her sleep. She'd quite exhausted herself from riding him so hard. But now that Harry had recovered, he was feeling quite awake. He gently pulled the sheets up to cover her body and tuck her in, letting her rest.

In the back of his mind, something that he'd thought about while telling his story started to niggle at him. As quietly as he could, he found his robe and put it on before sneaking out of the bedroom and going down the hall.

He and Ruth shared an office in the house. She used it for marking papers and making lesson plans. Harry did not spend much time there, but he did have a laptop of his own that he used to check the news and looking things up on occasion. He booted up the computer and went immediately to his email. There was a contact he had saved that he'd promised he would never use. But he would break that promise now. And Harry began to type a new message.

 _Dear Graham,_

 _I have wanted very much in recent years to reach out to you. But I didn't want to be an unwelcome presence in your life. Catherine's told me very little, only that you've been in recovery and you're apparently doing well. I do hope that's still the case. I don't know if she's told you anything about me at all, but she and I have been much closer in the last ten years or so._

 _I've retired from the Service. It's been eleven years, now. I'm married to a woman called Ruth. And she and I have a daughter named Penelope. She goes by Penny. Catherine still travels a lot, but she and Penny are quite close._

 _I'm writing to you now because Penny's been asking me a lot about my life before she came along. So just this evening, I told her the story of how Ruth and I met and fell in love and ended up leaving our old lives behind for this new one._

 _You, Graham, were not a part of that old life. No one was. It was a strain on my relationship with your mother and with your sister and with you. It consumed me, and I was a terrible husband and father. I know that, and I accept that. I don't think I could apologize for it and have anyone believe me._

 _But you are also not a part of my new life. And I really wish that you were. I know that Penny would love to meet her big brother, if you would like to. I have made a lot of changes in recent years, as I am sure you have. I hope that perhaps we could find a way to make amends between us._

 _I hope that this message finds you well, and I hope to hear a response from you. I know it's far more than I have ever earned from you, and I will not blame you in the slightest if you delete it and never look back. But if you are at all interested in speaking to me or meeting Ruth or Penny, we would all really like that._

 _I know you never felt it and I know I never much showed it, but I have loved you from the moment you were conceived, and I will love you till the day I die. I might not have ever been much of a father, but you are my son. And my love for you will be a constant. I hope I can get the chance to show you._

 _All the best,_

 _Dad_

Harry read the email over and then sent it before he could have second thoughts. He had no idea what might come of it, but he knew he had to try. For the man that he'd become in loving Ruth, for the father that he was to Penny. He owed it to the both of them to at least try with his estranged son. This was the first step. Perhaps the first step of many or perhaps the only step towards a dead end. But either way, better than no step at all.

And with a smile to himself and hope in his heart, Harry went back to the bedroom. He almost went to check on Penny, but she tended to be a light sleeper as she was getting older and very grumpy when awoken unexpectedly. He'd leave her be. They'd get up tomorrow morning and he would make those pancakes she loved. He would pull her into a big bear hug and let her squish his cheeks and he would tell her how beautiful and clever and wonderful she was and he would kiss her little face till she giggled and squealed and pushed him off.

But for now, Harry climbed back into bed with Ruth. She shifted as he put is weight on the bed. Unconsciously, she rolled over to snuggle against him. He kissed her softly and closed his eyes. And Harry was at peace.

 **THE END**


End file.
